


Bedroom Window

by insideabunker



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Angst, Angst and Feels, Artist Clarke, Awkward Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/F, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:43:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7654252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insideabunker/pseuds/insideabunker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shy new girl, Clarke Griffin, moves in next door to Lexa Woods during the summer before their senior year.  The girls hit it off at first, until one night Clarke catches Lexa watching her change through her bedroom window.  Now it's up to Lexa to find a way to apologize.</p><p>Based on a prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> This began as a one shot, that became a two shot, that may now have a 3rd, or even 4th installment. We'll see how "multi-chapter" it becomes, when I finally sit down to continue the story. Obviously, I make the final decisions about where the story goes, but I love getting feedback and I am always open to your suggestions. If you guys have strong feelings/ideas about where you're hoping the story goes, let me know! The best way to reach me is twitter, since I get those updates on my phone and it's easy for me to response right away: https://twitter.com/insideabunker
> 
> However, you can also, obviously, leave comments on here. Love logging in and seeing messages in my inbox.
> 
> Cheers!

****

**Prompt: Hey I love you're writing!!! I was thinking you could write a story where Clarke and Lexa are in high school and live next door to each other, and one night Lexa accidentally sees Clarke changing through her bedroom windows! Thanks!!!!!**

* * *

The summer had gone rogue, running roughshod over June and July, and strangling the whole of mid-Atlantic in the chokehold of a terrible and relentless humidity.  By August, those who had waited patiently for the season to raise the white flag of surrender found their hopes dashed, as the temperatures climbed even higher, and the brutal heat wave gave every indication that it intended to poke its ass into September.  In Martin’s Addition, Md., the thick, oppressive heat sent most people scrambling off to air-conditioned rooms, and dark, cold basements, desperate to find relief from the weather.  However, as a new school year loomed sullen and ominous on the horizon, the village’s younger residents clung desperately to the last vestiges of their liberty, braving the stifling heat to squeeze the final precious ounces of freedom from their summer.  All of them, save one.

[[MORE]]

On Raymond St., in the yellow house with the wrap around porch, Lexa sat in her second-story bedroom, feet dangling out of her bay window; box fans blowing in at her from either side.  She had spent her morning, like all mornings that summer, deep in one of the assigned readings for her upcoming AP classes.  Between that and the internship that Lexa had finished a week ago, the rising Senior's summer had been less than relaxing.  Most days, she watched out her window as people she knew from school headed off to go swimming, see movies, and engage in hundreds of other summer activities that were vastly more entertaining than her own.  Lexa sighed, reminding herself that, while not a thrill ride of fun, her summer had been productive, had been purposeful, hadn’t been wasted on living in the moment.  Still, as she watched friends drive down her street in a car loaded with beach towels, she couldn’t help but close her eyes and imagine how good it would be to feel to have the sun on her face, the sand in between her toes, and clean, cold water against her skin.

The daydream so consumed Lexa, that she failed to notice the metallic clunking of the large, white moving van until it was halfway down her street.  It groaned as the breaks were applied, announcing its arrival with a loud thudding that gave the distinct impression of improperly secured cargo.

Lexa peered down at the vehicle curiously.  Moving van’s were a rare sight in her neighborhood, the last one having arrived almost two years ago when Mr. Wilson, the gentleman who had lived in the gray house for nearly seven decades, had passed away in his sleep.  The home had been passed to his eldest daughter, an expatriate who lived in France, and no-one had occupied it since.  

Lexa leaned against the window, watching for signs of life from the moving van, anxious to know who would be taking up residence next door.  She waited with baited breath as the driver’s side door opened, and a pair of legs swung out, dangling just above the pavement.  A moment later a mover in a blue jumpsuit hopped out of the van, and Lexa frowned disappointedly.

“Alexandra!”  Lexa was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of her father’s voice bellowing from somewhere downstairs.  “Can you come down here for a minute?”

Happy for the distraction she swung her legs back inside, tossing her book aside haphazardly and bounding into the hallway.  Lexa descended the stairs two at a time.  She jumped over the last few, and landing with a thud on the dark, wood floor below, wandering through the living room, looking for the source of the voice.

“Where are you?”

“I’m in here sweetheart!”  She followed the sound of her father’s thundering, brassy, tenor toward the kitchen, where he sat nursing a cup of coffee, his face buried in the sports section of the Washington Post.  “What’s up Poppa?”

Lexa couldn’t see his face but she knew, behind the newspaper, her father was grinning at the way she’d addressed him.  In many ways, he was deeply old-fashioned, a career Air Force officer, who preferred Poppa to Dad, and insisted that Lexa’s friends address him formally as General, rather than Mr. Woods.  He was a no-nonsense parent who believed in discipline, hard work, being a team player and spending time with family.  His rules were fair, but firm and Lexa’s childhood had been filled with non-negotiables; curfews, bedtimes, chores, and mandatory volunteer work.

Despite his gruff exterior thought, George Mitchell Woods was a marshmallow when it came to his daughter.  He was her biggest cheerleader and had been wrapped around her little finger from the moment she’d been born.  Indeed, she’d never actually given him a reason not to be.  Lexa was a model daughter, a standout athlete, and a straight-A student.  At least, very nearly a straight-A student, chemistry be damned.  She was class president, a member of the national honors society, and had lettered in three varsity sports.   She was also, somewhat remarkably, astoundingly obedient for a teenager.  She had never broken curfew, cut class, or skipped school.  Lexa could count on one hand the number of times she’d been in trouble in her life.  As her father so proudly liked to brag, she’d been hard enough on herself during those few occasions that he’d never had to punish her.

The only time Lexa had genuinely worried about disappointing her father was when she’d come out to her parents in her sophomore year.  Despite her fears about his reaction, George had been remarkably unfazed as he stared at her thoughtfully, moments after the revelation.

“So…”  He'd paused, shifting in his seat, and looking at her quizzically.  “Does this mean I don’t have to worry about you with boys?”

She’d nodded at him, and he pursed his lips, taking another moment before banging his fist on the kitchen counter emphatically.  “Outstanding!”

And that had been that.  Two months later, the General had dawned an Air Force Retiree cap and a T-shirt that said “Proud of my gay daughter,” and insisted that he and Lexa march with the veteran’s in the D.C. Pride parade.  It had been incredibly enjoyable, and tremendously humiliating all at the same time.

George folded the top half of his paper down and peered at Lexa through his reading glasses.  “Did you happen to notice the moving van pull up next door?”  Lexa nodded at him, pulling his cup of coffee towards her, and taking a sip.  George sighed and set his paper on the counter, his neatly trimmed mustache twitching.  “So, I assume that means that you already know what your mother is planning.”

Lexa grimaced.  “Dear, g-d, not again!  Can’t she just bring them a casserole like a typical, neighborhood busy-body?”

George chuckled at her reaction, enjoying the fact that he and his daughter had complimentary sensibilities when it came to such things.  Their personalities were similar in that way, social when they wanted to be, but preferring a wide berth.  “Sorry sweetheart, but as long as your mother needs votes for village council, she’s going to remain Chevy Chase’s one-woman welcome wagon.”

Lexa groaned, sliding the cup of coffee back to her father.  “Can I get out of this by saying that I have to go study at the library?”

George narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow, looking at her sternly.  “Negative.  Besides, it won’t be that bad.  Apparently, the new people have a daughter your age.  I’m sure you two will find something to talk about.”

With that, George picked up his newspaper, snapping it open and burying his face once more.  “Dismissed!”

Lexa rolled her eyes at him and spun her heels, heading for the stairs.  Just as she reached to the banister, her father cleared his throat.

“One more thing sweetie…  I know you’re going to hate this, but your mother made it very clear that she wants you and me to dress up for this dinner.  That means a blazer and slacks for me and a dress for you.”

The momentary silence that met this final revelation was followed, seconds later, by the sound of feet stomping up the staircase.  George shook his head, grinning as he listened to Lexa groaning all the back to her bedroom.  “Yep.  Knew she’d hate that.”

* * *

Lexa ground her teeth together in frustration, gazing into the full-length mirror, and struggling in vain to adjusted the outfit that her mother had insisted that she wear.  It wasn’t so much a hatred of dresses that had put Lexa on edge.  Dresses she was fine with, given the right occasion and the freedom to pick something that suited her tastes.  The dresses that her mother picked for her, however, offend all of Lexa’s sensibilities regarding personal style.  They were conservative, bland, and almost always came in the shade or print that looked the most ridiculous against her complexion.  To Lexa’s even more significant dismay, her mother had insisted that she complete this particular ensemble with a pastel cardigan that made her look like she was heading to a sock-hop.  Lexa adjusted the outfit again, smiling as she imagined slipping back into her cutoff shorts and a tank top, slipping out the window, and sneaking off to see her friends before her mother was any the wiser.

The sound of a ringing doorbell brought Lexa back to reality.  She took a final glance in the mirror and shook her head, accepting that there was no improving on the outfit, but confident that no one whose opinion she valued would ever see her in it.  With that, she turned and exited her room.  She took a deep breath as she made her way downstairs, calming her nerves for the long night of awkward small talk that lay ahead.

The minute she entered the living room, Lexa’s mother descended on her.

“There you are!  I was just coming to get you.  Sweetie, I want to introduce you to Jake and Abby Griffin, our new neighbors.”

June extended an open palm to the two people on the couch, and then back to Lexa.

“Jake, Abby, this is my daughter, Alexandra.”

Lexa smiled politely at the slightly dazed couple in front of her.  She couldn’t blame them for feeling overwhelmed.  June Woods was a notorious force of nature, a social steamroller who never seemed to understand other people's need to ease into unfamiliar social settings.  It was hard for most people to keep up with that level of extroversion.  Lexa took a step toward the couple on the couch and extended her hand.

“You can just call me Lexa.”  

“Ugh!” June rolled her eyes at her daughter, looking over to their neighbors and shrugging.

“Kids, am I right?  You spend months before they’re born picking out a strong, sensible name for them, and as soon as they can talk, they want to be called something else.”

June laughed at her joke in the slightly forced way she often did when she was putting on a show for people.  When it was genuine, Lexa loved her mothers laugh.  It was rich and full of an irreverent energy that only radiated from her when her guard was down.  This laugh though, Lexa hated.  It was the byproduct of always being “on,” always performing and keeping up appearances, and it set Lexa’s teeth on edge.

The man on the couch stood, pushing his slightly shaggy hair out of his face and smiling as he grabbed Lexa’s outstretched arm with a strong, firm grip.

“Lexa it is,” he said with a wink.  “I’m Jake.”

His wife stepped forward a moment later, taking Lexa’s now empty hand and shaking it vigorously.  “And I’m Abby.  I'm very pleased to meet you, Lexa.”

Abby’s face was soft and calm, her smile warm and genuine, and Lexa couldn’t help but feel at ease in her presence.  Perhaps, she thought, the evening might not be so bad.

June took a seat on the couch across from them and patted the seat next to her, signaling Lexa to sit.  “Now, where did your father run off to?”

A moment later, June’s question was answered as George entered the room, hands raised in a mock surrender.

“Relax, June-bug. I’m right here.”  He dropped his hands.  “I was just showing The Griffin’s daughter where our bathroom is.”

Lexa grinned as her father adjusted the stiff Navy blazer that her mother had forced him into wear.  She winked at him as he made his way over to them, trying not to smirk too much.  George, who didn’t miss a thing, leaned over as he took a seat in the old, leather armchair next to Lexa.

“Nice sweater,” he whispered, and Lexa frowned, shooting him a dirty look before anyone had a chance to notice. A moment later Lexa was pulled into the conversation, as her mother offered her up as a tour guide for The Griffin’s daughter.  

“Lexa, you should show The Griffin’s daughter around town.  I’m sure…”

June turned back to Abby.  “I’m so sorry, what was your daughter’s name again?  It was something a bit different, wasn’t it; something sort of, masculine?”

Lexa held her breath, realizing that her mother’s comment had sounded a bit insensitive.  To her credit, Abby only smiled.

“It's Clarke.”

June nodded.  “I’m sure there has to be a story behind that name.”

Jake started laughing and put a hand on Abby’s shoulder.  “There is, but poor Abby hates when I tell it.”

His wife shot him an annoyed glance, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Only because you took advantage of me when I was dropped up on painkillers after labor.”

She turned to June. “Jake told me that he wanted to name our daughter Clarke because it had been his favorite grandmother’s maiden name.  Two weeks later I find out that her maiden name was Seaver.”  

June cocked an eyebrow.  “So where did Clarke come from?”

Jake started laughing again, “It was the last name of my favorite hockey player growing up.”

The mention of sports had George sitting up in his chair, finally interested in the conversation.  “Jake, you’re not talking about Bobby Clarke, are you?”

Jake nodded, desperately trying to stifle his giggles as Abby elbowed him in the side.  “Best two-way forward of all time!”

George smiled contentedly and settled back in his chair.  “Well, I’ll be damned.”  He looked over at Lexa.  “Maybe I should have named you Lemieux.”

June rolled her eyes.  “Don’t even start.”  She looked back at Abby, apologetically.  “Not that Clarke is a bad name.  I like it.  It’s very…”

“Unique?”

Lexa’s head turned in the direction of the new voice.  As soon as her eyes locked on its owner, every thought in her head vanished.  Lexa felt her jaw slacken and stomach drop as she took in the vision in front of her. Standing in the living room doorway was, perhaps, the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen in real life.  The girl was a bit shorter than Lexa, with smooth, clear skin, and cheeks that glowed with a natural blush.  She had a round face and a button nose that looked too perfect to be real, and her chin was adorably dimpled.  Golden hair rolled over her shoulders in waves, held in place by two strands that were pulled away at her ears and tied back.  The girl grinned, flashing a row of pearly, white teeth and a smile that lit up her face, making Lexa notice the tiny mole just above the left corner of her mouth.  Most of all though, Lexa could stop staring at her eyes.  They were the bluest she’d ever seen; clear and bright, the color of sapphires.  Before she realized what she was doing Lexa had sprung to her feet.

“Hi!”

June smiled at her daughter, looking back to the blonde a moment later.  “Well, there you are!  Lexa, this is Clarke, The Griffin’s daughter.”

Clarke smile shyly, waving her hand in Lexa’s direction.  “Nice to meet you.”

  Overwhelmed and awkward, Lexa could only smile back at her, dumbstruck.  She tried desperately to think of something to say, but nothing came to her.  Finally, she settled on trying to be helpful.

“Can I, um…. Can I take that for you?  You’re jacket I mean.  I can hang it up if you’re hot.”

Clarke pulled hesitantly on the jean jacket she was wearing over her dress.  “No, that’s fine.  I’m a little cold.”  The statement seemed crazy to Lexa, considering how warm it had been the past few weeks, but then again, she did remember her mother mentioning that the Griffins had moved from San Diego.  Perhaps it was much hotter there, and the girl was adjusting.  Lexa sat back in her chair, determined to regain her composure.  Out of the corner of his eye, George stared skeptically at his daughter, a knowing look on his face.

Clarke crossed the room and took a seat next to her father, who patted her knee reassuringly.  “Hey, there kiddo.  I was just telling everyone how you got your name.”  Clark smiled, rolling her eyes at her father.

“The old Bobby Clarke story, eh?”  She smiled at the group, looking around, her eyes meeting Lexa’s for just a moment.  It was only a fraction of a second, but Lexa’s heart still skipped a beat.

* * *

Later that night, after blissfully being allowed to slipping back into shorts and a t-shirt, Lexa stood in the kitchen with her father, drying dishes as he finished scrubbing them.  It was a small, seemingly unimportant task, but one they always did together.  As much as Lexa groaned about completing the chore each night, it was something she secretly enjoyed, a guaranteed moment of alone time for the two of them.  It was during the nightly dishwashing that many of their most important conversations had happened, and Lexa had a feeling that tonight would be no different.

“So…” George hesitate.  “I think somebody might have a bit of a crush.”

Lexa’s head snapped up, and her cheeks flushed.  “What? No!”

Her father smiled and continued to stare at the dish he was scrubbing.  “Could have fooled me.  You spent all night talking that Griffin girl’s ear off.”

Lexa felt her stomach drop.  “I didn’t talk too much, did I?”

George grinned like a Cheshire cat, turning his head to look at Lexa.  “I thought so.  You can’t get anything past your old man.”  He winked, handing her the now pristine dish, and grabbing the next one from the dirty pile.

“Looks like you’ve got a thing for blondes.”

Lexa rolled her eyes and kept her gaze fixed on the dish she was drying.

“I don’t have a thing.”  She emphasized the last word, drawing it out.  “I just think she’s pretty.  That’s all.”

George nodded.  “Well, you’re not wrong about that.  She seemed like a very lovely young lady.”

He paused, setting the dish down in the water, and turning to his daughter, a serious look overtaking his features.  “Lexa?”

Her father waited until she reluctantly met his gaze.  “Listen, you’ve never shown any interest in anyone, romantically…”

He cleared his throat, and took a breath, determined to make it through the conversation he was trying to have.

“And I don’t know what the playbook is for this dynamic.” He gestured back and forth between them. “But, since we’re on the subject, should we maybe have… You know, 'the talk?'”

He peered at her expectantly, watching her eyes grow a little wider as realization set in.  Lexa turned a furious shade of red and stared at her feet.

“Um… They covered most of that stuff in school.  Well, I guess not everything, but…  I mean, I have the internet and everything, so I think I’m…”

Thankfully, George cut her off before the conversation could become any more awkward.

“Ok. Ok. Ok.  I’m, glad to know you’re covered.”

An awkward silence settled over the kitchen, as the two of them returned to their task.  None-the-less, the gears in Lexa’s head were turning frantically, and she began wondering if, just maybe, they ought to have "the talk" anyway.  Her father wasn’t an open book, and it worried her that she might be passing up a golden opportunity.  Cautiously, she looked over at him, clearing her throat softly.

“Just out of curiosity, if we did have…” She swallowed nervously.   “If we did have 'the talk,' what would you say?”

George paused for a beat, returning to scrubbing the dish as he looked back at her.  “Well… given the circumstances, I guess I would tell you the same thing that my father told me.”  

Lexa nodded.  “Which is?”

George finally stopped scrubbing, looking at her sternly, and furrowing his brow.

“My father told me that before I made any decisions about doing something with a girl, or to a girl, I should stop and ask myself, 'if I have a daughter someday, will I be proud to tell her about this?' That advice hasn’t failed me yet.”

Lexa smiled at him, and George returned to the dirty dishes, finishing the last one, and looking at her intently when he handed it off.

“He also told me that if I ever treated a woman disrespectfully, he’d come kick in my teeth.  Roger?”

Lexa nodded.

* * *

The next two weeks passed with the expediency of a New Orleans funeral procession. Lexa spent most of her days camped in her bedroom, or sitting on the porch, desperately trying to make it through her remaining assignments.  Each one inspired all the passion and fever of a power point presentation.  She was determined to finish the reading before mid-August; determined to get out of the house, determined to enjoy the last few weeks of summer with her friends.

Thankfully, the slow going, miserable task was now punctuated by occasional visits from Clarke.  Every time Lexa saw her walking across the driveway, her skin would tingle, and her heart would race.  Soon, she found herself anticipating Clarke’s visits with such enthusiasm, that concentrating on her work became a near impossibility.  It didn’t help that they seemed to have so much in common.  They read books by the same authors, enjoyed the same television programs, and liked the same foods.  Most important they both loved music, or more accurately, Lexa liked music, and Clarke had a mental back catalog of artists and songs that extended over many decades and into every genre.  She could give dissertations on any musical subject, from the influence of Lebanese guitar on surf-rock to the importance of Robert Johnson to Blues.  Lexa enjoyed listening to Clarke rattle on about songs, artists, and bands.  It was the only thing that made her days tolerable.

It was early, on a Monday morning, when Lexa finally finished her last assignment.  As soon as she had closed her book, she grabbed her phone and sent out a mass text, alert her friends that she was finally free.  To her great pleasure, Lincoln and Raven both texted back immediately, insisting that Clarke join them on a trip to the beach.  Lexa felt as though she was floating on a cloud, as she flitted around the room gathering her beach gear, and shoving it in her backpack.  She sprinted into the hallway, running for the back stairs and taking them two at a time as she made her way down to the kitchen, where her parents sat having breakfast.  Lexa dashed past them, grabbing a piece of toast and nearly making it out of the room before her father’s voice stopped her.

“Now, wait for just one-minute ma’am!  I don’t believe you gave your mother and I a good morning.”

Lexa froze, groaning as she turned on her heels and marched back into the kitchen.  “Sorry!  I finally finished my work, and I’m just anxious to get out of the house.”

Her father folded down his paper and raised an eyebrow at her.  “And ‘out of the house’ means where exactly?”  George waggled his fingers, making air quotes.

Lexa shifted her weight from one foot to another, nervous to tell her father, lest he put the kibosh on her plans.  She looked at him bashfully and bit her lip.  “Sandy Point State Park?”

George folded his arms across his chest.  “Sandy Point, eh?  I don’t know Lexa, that’s an hour away from here.  Who are you going with?”

“Lincoln and Raven.”

Lexa’s father looked at her skeptically, pursing his lips and grumbling under his breath.  He turned to his wife.  “What do you think June-bug?”

Lexa’s mother took a sip of her coffee, her eyes on her plate as she spread jam over half an English muffin.  “Oh, it’s fine George.  Go have fun sweetie, just make sure you wear sunscreen.”

Lexa smiled triumphantly, nodding her affirmation.  She turned to leave again but halted when her mother called to her.

“One more thing, Alexandra.  I was talking to Clarke's mom the other day, and she seemed worried about Clarke meeting people.  Apparently, there were some problems at her last school with…”  

She paused for a moment, taking a bite of her breakfast.  “...bullying.  I want you to invite her to go with you.  Introduce her to your friends.”

Lexa nodded, thankful that her mother’s condition had been something pleasant.  She’d be happy to invite Clarke.

A few moments later Lexa was standing in front of The Griffin's front door with her finger on the bell.  She waited for an answer and smiled when she spied a familiar face making its way toward her through the glass.

“Lexa, hi!”  Clarke smiled and leaned against the doorframe, happy to see the brunette.  “You’re not finally done with all your AP reading, are you?”

Lexa wiggled her eyebrows, grinning from ear to ear. “I am indeed!”

She patted the beach bag that was slung over her shoulder.  “ I was just about to head to the beat with some friends.  I thought you might want to come with us.”

To Lexa’s surprise, Clarke’s face became apprehensive at the issuance of the invitation.  It wasn’t the reaction she had expected.  Clarke bit her lip, looking away for a moment before straightening up and running a hand through her hair.

“Well… My dad is painting the upstairs today.  To be honest, I should probably stick around the house and help him.”  She sighed, “I appreciate the invite though.”

Lexa nodded, a little disappointed, but not wanting to seem over eager.  “Ok.  Maybe next time then.”

Clarke smiled.  “Next time. Sounds good.”

A honking horn caught Lexa’s attention, and she turned just in time to see Lincoln’s Jeep Wrangler pull into her driveway.  She turned back to Clarke, pointing over her shoulder.

“Well, that’s my ride.”

Clarke peered over Lexa’s shoulder at the vehicle loaded with teenagers and beach gear.  “I guess I’ll see you later.  Have fun.”

“Will do.  See you later!”  Lexa turned, jogging over to her friend’s vehicle and jumping in the back.  She turned as Lincoln pulled back onto the street, waving to Clarke a final time.

* * *

Over the course of the next week, Lexa spent almost every day doing the same thing. She’d wake up early, grab breakfast, and head off with her friends.  They spent their time hiking, swimming at the city pool, or heading to the beach.  They’d barbecue in backyards, and spend their nights roasting marshmallows around fire pits.

Each day Lexa would invite Clarke to come, and each day Clarke would politely decline, excusing herself for one reason or another, and insisting she’d join them the next time.  Lexa dismissed Clarke’s reluctance as the byproduct of shyness, knowing that the girl was more than happy to hang out with her when it was just the two of them, and resolved to pull her out of her shell eventually.

On the nights Lexa wasn’t out with her friends, she’d hang out with Clarke, the two of them sharing a single pair of earbuds, as Clarke introduced her to the music she had never heard of before.  The more time they spent together, the less Lexa could deny her intense crush on the girl.  She was utterly fascinated with the charming, beautiful blonde, and had no idea why Clarke was so timid when it came to meeting new people.  Lexa couldn’t imagine there was anyone who wouldn’t enjoy spending time with her.

That Friday, Lexa, and Clarke sat together on the porch swing, rocking back and forth, and talking about the upcoming academic year.

“How are you not dying in that shirt,” Lexa chuckled, tugging at Clarke’s flannel.

“Just used to the heat I guess,” Clarke shrugged.  She smiled half-heartedly, looking at her feet, and sighing.

Lexa places a hand on her shoulder.  “Hey, you’re not nervous about school are you?”

Clarke nodded, sniffing a bit.  “It’s just hard to be going somewhere new for my last year of high school. I miss my friends, and I feel like people’s cliques are set by senior year.  What if I can’t find a new group to hang out with?”  She let out a deep sigh.  “I guess… I’m just worried I’m going to be lonely.”

Lexa smiled reassuringly at her.  “Hey, don’t worry.  You’ve already made one friend.”  She pointed at her chest, winking.  “And like I said, my friends, are all anxious to meet you.  I know you’re shy, but you shouldn’t be worried.  My friends are nice.”

Clarke smiled, placing her hand on Lexa’s thigh.  “I know, and I’m glad that I met you, Lexa.”

Lexa felt her heart race at the contact, suddenly very aware of their proximity.  Lexa had been waiting for weeks for a sign that Clarke might be interested in something other than a friendship, and as inexperienced as she was, the subtle touch seemed like sign enough.

Clarke looked down at her watch.  “I should get home.”  She squeezed Lexa’s leg and leaned over, placing a quick kiss on her cheek.  “Thanks for calming me down.”

With that, Clarke was up and skipping down the porch steps, heading back to her house.  Lexa remained on the porch swing, dumbstruck and unable to move.  Had that just happened? Lexa smiled, placing a hand on her cheek and touching the spot where Clarke’s lips had been.  Had Clarke Griffin just kissed her?

* * *

By the time Lexa made her way to her room, her whole body was buzzing with excitement.  In a daze, Lexa crossed the floor and allowed herself to drop into the cushions of her bay window, gazing outside dreamily.  Across the way, she saw Clark’s bedroom window, the curtains open, the light inside glowing orange and yellow against the night sky.  She wondered if Clarke was thinking about her too, and smiled when she saw her appear through the glass panes.

Lexa watched as Clarke took the tie out other hair, and shook her blonde mane, combing it out with her fingers.  She crossed out of the window again, returning a moment later with a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt, and tossing them on her bed. Lexa was about to turn away when suddenly, Clarke’s hands moved to her pants.  She watched as Clarke unzipped them, pulling them down over her smooth, pale legs to reveal a pair of lacy pink panties.

The sight had Lexa wholly frozen in place.  She knew she shouldn't watch but, at that moment, her better angels seemed to have departed from her entirely, and she found herself unable to look away.  She gawked as Clarke turned profile side, hands moving to her shirt, her fingers snaking under the hem.  Clarke pulled the shirt up over her torso slowly, exposing her flat stomach, smooth, flawless skin, and a matching lacy bar.  Her hands moved to the clasp, unhooking it and letting it fall from her chest, allowing her ample breasts to bounce free.

Lexa’s breaths were coming slowly now, her jaw dangling open, and her whole body tingling as she gazed at the nearly naked girl in the window.  For a moment, she wondered if Clarke had planned this, leaving her window open on purpose to tease her.  She continued to stare as Clarke turned again, exposing her whole back to Lexa; milky skin, perfect, round ass, straight back and…

Lexa’s eyes shot wide when she took in the sight on Clarke’s shoulder.  They shot even wider when Clarke turned to face her.

As soon as the blonde realized she had an audience, she gasped, covering her chest with her arms and sprinting out of sight.  In turn, Lexa immediately ducked, falling to her floor in a panic.

If she’d wondered whether or not Clarke had left her curtains open purposefully, her question had just been answered in the worst possible way.  Lexa’s heart pounded frantically.  Her mind raced as she began realizing how epically screwed she was.  Clarke would surely tell her parents, who would surely tell Lexa’s parents, who would surely be furious.  More importantly, Clarke would be angry.  The girl who had, moments ago, so sweetly kissed Lexa on the cheek, would probably never speak to her again.  Lexa heard a door slamming outside.  She dashed back to her window, pressing her face against the glass and watching as a now fully clothed Clarke stormed across her lawn, heading toward Lexa’s house.

The ringing doorbell sounded like an alarm going off, and Lexa’s whole body vibrated with fear as she heard the front door creaking open.  She sprinted to the front stairs just in time to listen to her mother’s voice.

“Clarke!  It's good to see you, dear.”

Everything went fuzzy, as Lexa began to hyperventilate, knowing that any minute now all hell would break loose.  She gritted her teeth, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never came.  Instead, she heard her mother laughing.”

“Go right on up honey.  Lexa's in her bedroom.”

Lexa dashed back to her room and closed the door, wiping her sweaty hands on her jean shorts, and nervously pacing back and forth as she listened to the sound of Clark’s footsteps on the stairs.  Her heart pounded as though it would beat out of her chest, and her forehead dripped sweat.  Finally, there was a knock on her door.  Lexa froze, knowing it was time to face the music.  Hesitantly, she crossed the room and reached for the knob, her hands shaking as she pulled the door open to reveal a furious Clarke, her face radiating anger.  A brief moment of silence passed before Clarke point at Lexa and spoke.

“Inside.”

Lexa nodded solemnly, backing into the room and towards her bed, as Clarke entered and closed the door behind her.  Clarke made her way over to where Lexa was standing, pressing a hand to her chest and pushing her back forcefully.

“Sit.”

Lexa let herself fall back, landing on the edge of her bed.  She stared at the furious Blonde girl and desperately tried to think of what to say.

“Clarke. I’m really…”

Clarke covered her mouth with an outstretched palm.

“Don’t say anything.”

To Lexa’s great shock, Clarke dipped her fingers into the waistband of the pants she was wearing and pulled them down, bending as she pushed the material below her knees and stepped out of it.

Lexa stammered, unsure of what was going on.  “Clarke, what are you…”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?”  Clarke looked at her intently.

Clarke grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up and over her head, leaving her in only her bra and underwear.  “Isn’t this what you wanted to see?”

Clarke reached behind her and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor.  Lexa tried to look away but was immediately reprimanded.

“Look at me.”

Lexa reluctantly brought her gaze back to Clarke, swallowing a lump in her throat.  She watched as Clarke turned, revealing her perfect round ass, smooth back, and on her side, a patch of gnarled, knotted flesh that ran from her shoulder to the base of her neck and down to the bottom of her scapula.  Lexa’s stared at the giant scar, horrified.

“Clarke, what…”

Clarke snatched her clothing off the floor and began pulling them back on as fast as she could.  “Are you happy now?”

Lexa jumped up off her bed and, without thinking, began issuing apologies as fast as she could.

“Clarke, I’m so sorry!  I didn’t know!  I had no idea!”

The blond girl finished buttoning her pants and began pulling her shirt back on.  “Would it have made it ok if you did?  What the hell is wrong with you, Lexa?”

Lexa grabbed Clarke’s arm, trying to stop her as she headed for the door.  “No!  I mean, no it wouldn’t have been ok!  I know it was  wrong to watch you like that!”

“Then why did you do it?!”

Lexa stared at her feet, too ashamed to make eye contact.

“Outside when you had your hand on my leg, and then you kissed me on the cheek, I thought that maybe you were interested in me.  I thought that maybe you’d left the curtains open because you wanted me to see you.”

Clarke screwed up her face and rolled her eyes, shaking off Lexa’s hand and starring.  “I kissed you on the cheek because you were sweet.  That doesn’t mean I want you to see me naked!  It sure as hell doesn’t give you the right to watch me undress!”

Lexa swallowed hard, dreading her next question.  “Clarke, are you going to tell my parents?”

Tears were falling from Clarke’s eyes now, and she gave Lexa a seething look, wiping them away, angrily.

“Don’t worry.  I’m not going to rat you out.”  Clarke paused, looking over at the window and then back to Lexa.  “For the record, I was interested.”

Clarke crossed to the door and opened it.  “But I’m not anymore.”

With that, Clarke exited the room.  Lexa listened as she ran down the stairs and out the front door.  A moment later Clarke appeared in her bedroom window again, collapsing in tears as she reached over and closed the blinds, blocking herself from Lexa’s view.

* * *

On the last Friday, before school Started, Lexa sat at the breakfast table with her father, sullenly poking at her half-eaten cereal.  Her father peered at her over the edge of his paper, his eyes narrowed, his mustache twitching.  Finally, he folded his paper down, setting it on the table and turning to his Lexa.  “Ok, what’s wrong?”

Lexa looked up at him.  “What?  Oh… Nothing.”

George pursed his lips, grumbling.  “Well, It’s obviously something.  I know that face you’re making.  That’s your guilty face. You know you’re going to break down and tell me sooner or later, so you might as well just come out with it.”

Lexa sighed, pushing her now soggy cereal around in the bowl and squirming in her seat.  “I’m worried that you’ll be disappointed if I tell you.”

George nodded, staring at his daughter seriously, and taking a deep breath.  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that.”

Lexa nodded, continuing to push her serial around as she attempted to gather enough courage to admit what she’d done.  Ultimately, she lost her nerve, resolving to tell her father, but omit specific details.

“I sort of screwed thing up with Clarke.”

George crossed his arms over his chest, his voice becoming stern.  “I was wondering why she hadn’t been over all week.  How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad I guess.  She caught me… Well, I guess invading her privacy is the best way to put it.”

Her father nodded.  “Did you apologize?”

Lexa nodded.

“Did you apologized because you're sorry, or because you got caught?”

Lexa considered her father’s words carefully.  “I think I apologized because she caught me, but I am sorry.  I don’t think it helped that I asked her if she was going to tell you and mom.”

“But she didn’t?”

Lexa nodded her head.

George gripped his chin between his index finger and thumb and hummed as he pondered the information he’d just been given.  Finally, he cleared his throat, gave Lexa a serious look and leaning in toward her.

“Well, it seems to me that what Clarke is angry about is that you didn’t own up to what you did.  I mean sure, she caught you, but other than that you more or less got away with it.”  George leaned in and narrowed his eyes.  “And don’t think it hasn’t occurred to me that there is more to this story then just you invading someone’s privacy.”

Lexa blushed and looked down at the table, avoiding her father’s gaze.  “There is.”

George grabbed his coffee and rose from the table, putting a hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

"Honey, I’m gonna tell you the same thing I tell my airmen.  Most people will choose to do the right thing when the whole world is watching them.  Honorable people choose to do the right thing, even when no-one is watching them, and the most honorable people admit to their mistakes, even when no-one is around to see when they make them.  You understand?”

Lexa nodded, and George smiled, tucking his paper under his arm and heading out of the kitchen, his voice echoing down the hallway as he walked towards his office.  “Don’t think this means that you don’t have to tell me what you did, eventually!”

* * *

Lexa trembled, gripping the sign in her hand tighter as she watched her father’s car pull up in front of the house.  George stepped out of the lovingly maintained Jeep Wagoneer, shutting the door forcefully and stalking up the lawn toward her, his face red, his jaw clenched.  He stopped a foot from Lexa, put his hands on his hips.

“Funny story.  You’ve never been one to embarrass your parents, so when I got a call from Mrs. Blake telling me that you were half naked on our lawn, holding up a sign about being a peeping Tom, I insisted that it had to be someone else’s kid.  Ten minutes later, your mother calls me in a panic, screaming at me that you’re on our front walk, publicly humiliating yourself and that you refuse to come inside.  Now, I just left work to drive here in peak hour traffic, so I suggest that you explain to me what's going on before I throw you over my shoulder and carry you into that house!”

Lexa swallowed hard.  Half naked was a little harsh, she thought, as she gazed down at the sports bra and boy shorts she was wearing.  It was probably more then she wore at the beach.  “Dad, I can explain.”

“WELL, YOU BETTER START!  I SWEAR, IF…”  George stopped yelling when his eyes fell on the sign Lexa was holding, finally reading what it said.  There, on the white poster board in large, black letters Lexa had written two sentences.  “I watched my neighbor changing through her bedroom window.  I am a dishonorable creep.”  George looked up at his daughter, frowning.  “So that’s what happened between you and Clarke?”

Lexa nodded.

George continued to stare at her, unclenching his jaw, and calming a bit.  “And this your way of punishing yourself?”

Lexa nodded again.

George crossed his arms and sighed.  “You know this isn’t what I had in mind when I told you to own up to your mistakes.”

Lexa relaxed her grip on the sign, hoping that her father wouldn’t blow up again.  “I thought it was only fair that I feel as embarrassed as I made her feel.”

George twitched his mustache back and forth, pursing his lips.  “Well, given the circumstances, I can’t say I disagree.”  He gritted his teeth as a passing car honked at the sight on the lawn.  “How long have you been out here?”

“Since noon.”

George nodded, glancing at his watch and noting that the time was now half-past five.  “Well, carry on then.”  With that, he turned and walked onto the porch, leaving Lexa to suffer on the lawn.

“Wait… So you want me to stay out here?”

“Only seems fair,” George called over his shoulder, opening the front door and disappearing into the house.

Three and a half hours later, George Woods stood on the porch of his home, drinking a beer, and watching as another passing car honked at his daughter.  He shook his head, leaning over to the man next to him.  “Serves her right.”

Jake Griffin took a swig of his beer, and laughed, patting his neighbor on the back.  “Oh come on George, I think she’s learned her lesson by now.”

George looked over at his companion skeptically.  “You’re telling me you’re not upset about this?”

Jake shook his head.  “Well, Abby and I aren’t thrilled, but in all fairness your kid did choose to stand half naked on the lawn all day, admitting her wrongdoing to the world.  Seems to me like she’s genuinely sorry.”

George hummed.  “Ten more minutes.”

* * *

From her place on the lawn, Lexa could barely make out the flash of blonde heading across the driveway.  She shuffled nervously as Clarke approached, worried that she was about to be yelled at again.  Clarke strode to a stop right in front of her and crossed her arms, scowling at the half-naked girl.  “So I take it you told your parents what you did.  Was this your dad’s idea?”

Lexa shook her head.  “No.  I mean, I did tell my parents, but I came up with this on my own.  My dad’s just enforcing it.”

Clarke’s face shifted from anger to confusion.  “So you are punishing yourself?  Why would you do that?”

Lexa sighed sadly, knowing there was probably nothing she could say to make Clarke forgive her, but determined to try.

“I was trying to own up to what I did, feel as exposed as I probably made you feel.”

Clarke shook her head, a hint of a smile appeared on her face.  “Well… I can’t say that watching you get honked at all day didn’t make me feel little better.”

Lexa grimaced, thinking about all the hollering she had gotten from teenage boys as they drove by, and replaying the nasty comments people had yelled at her out of their car windows.

“Yeah, it wasn’t fun.”

Clarke nodded, taking a step forward and placed a hand on Lexa’s sign, forcing her to put it down.  “You are sorry, aren’t you?”

Lexa nodded.  “You have no idea how much.”  She tried not to tear up as she continued.  “Clarke, I know I can’t change what did, but I swear that decision isn’t a reflection of who I am, or what I think about you.  Maybe I don’t deserve a second chance, but if you give me one, I promise I’ll never betray your trust again.”

“We'll see.”  Clarke rolled her eyes and smiled, slipping off her coat and handing it to Lexa.  “Here, take this before you freeze.”

From where he stood on the porch, Jake watched the scene unfold, nudging George in the ribs.  “Looks like they’re making up.”  

George nodded, putting two fingers to his lips and whistling. When the girls looked over at him, he waved his hand, indicating that it was finally time for Lexa to come inside.

The girls made their way to the porch in silence, hesitating as they walked up to where their fathers were leaning against the railing.  Jake looked down at the two of them, chuckling.  “Should we leave you two alone so you can talk?”

Clarke nodded, and George slapped his companion on the back.  “Come on Jake; I’ve got a bottle of 30-year-old scotch inside with our name on it.”

Lexa and Clarke took a seat on the porch swing.  They rocked back and forth in silence for a few minutes, neither one sure what to say.  Lexa finally broke the silence, turning towards Clarke nervously.  “Clarke, can I ask you something?”

Clarke nodded.  “You want to know how I got the scar don’t you?”

Lexa gritted her teeth, worried that she’d crossed a line.  “Is that not ok?”

Clare shook her head.  “No, it’s fine.”  She paused, letting out a deep sigh.  “I was three.  I was sitting on the kitchen floor coloring while my mother made dinner.  Mom went to carry the pot of pasta she’d been boiling to the sink to drain it, and she tripped on one of my crayons.  Most of the water spilled on the floor, but some of it got on me.  I ended up with third-degree burns over most of my left shoulder, and some of my back.”

Clarke pulled the neck of her t-shirt down, exposing the burn scar so Lexa could see it up close.  “I usually keep it covered, but some of the girls at my last school saw it when I was changing for gym class.  After that they started teasing me, calling me burn girl.  That’s why I never took you up on any of your offers to hang out with you and your friends.  There’s no way to hide this thing in a bathing suit, and I’d rather not go through that again.”

Lexa frowned, furious that Clarke had had to put up with people teasing her about her scar.  “Clarke, those girls at you last school are jerks.  My friends would never do that to you.”

Clarke laughed bitterly.  “Well, even so, nobody wants to look at something this ugly all day.”  She pulled her t-shirt back up and sniffed.  It was only then that Lexa noticed the tears in Clark’s eyes.  Lexa leaned over to Clarke, touching the shoulder of her t-shirt lightly.  “Can I?”

Clarke nodded, looking away, and Lexa pulled the shirt down, revealing the scar again.  Lexa ghosted her fingertips against the gnarled flesh, taking in every inch of it.

“This isn’t ugly Clarke.”  

Lexa swallowed, hoping that what she was about to do wasn’t going to offend the girl next to her.  “It’s beautiful.”  Lexa leaned in slowly, placing a gentle kiss on top of the scar.  “You’re beautiful.”

Lexa pulled her shirt back up and leaned away, waiting for Clarke’s reaction.  When she looked at Clark’s again, the blonde was blushing furiously, and dabbing her eyes.  Finally, she smiled, standing and clearing her throat.

“I should probably get home.”

Lexa jumped up, taking off the jacket Clarke had lent her.  “Here, I should give this back to….”

Before Lexa could finish her sentence, she was silenced by Clarke’s soft, full lips pressing gently against her own.  When Clarke pulled back, Lexa was staring at her, wide-eyed and speechless.

“No more looking in my window, ok?  You’re sweet.  Just be sweet.”

Lexa nodded dumbly, and Clarke smiled, turning as she made her way off the porch and back over to her house.

  
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	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So,
> 
> Since so many people were requesting a second installment to bedroom window, I broke down and continued the story. This picks up after the school year has started, right around homecoming. Hope everyone enjoys it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always comments and feedback are appreciated, as are suggestions and ideas.
> 
> The best way to reach out is on twitter, because that's I'll see those comments spooner rather than later: https://twitter.com/insideabunker
> 
> However, comments on here work too. Hit that comments box hard, ya'll!
> 
> Cheers!

“Is football a big deal here?”

Lexa tried not to laugh as they dashed the last few feet across Connecticut Ave, turning onto Raymond Street.  “Pretty much everything but football is a big deal at BCC.  We haven’t won a homecoming game in three years, but our ultimate frisbee team has a state title.”

The comment earned a chuckle from Clarke, and Lexa tried not to grin too widely as she added a mark to the mental tally she'd been keeping of times she’d made Clarke laugh.  Lexa loved the sound of Clark’s laugh.  It was deep, warm and honest, and that it had been elicited by something she said made the sound even sweeter to Lexa.  Lexa could have composed sonnets dedicated to Clarke’s laugh.  She could have written psalms preaching its gospel.  There was truly no better sound in the world, and its charming melody was music in Lexa’s ears; the soundtrack to an almost perfect school-day that had ended in an impromptu walk home with her beautiful, intoxicating neighbor.

It had been almost seven weeks since the kiss, since Clarke had pressed her lips to Lexa’s and told her to be sweet, trotting away a moment later and leaving the brunette in stunned silence.  Every time Lexa conjured the memory up in her mind, she could almost feel the way Clark’s lips had tickled as they the brushed against hers.  When she was around Clarke, it was impossible not to think about the kiss, and even harder not to grin like an idiot at the thought.

The only problem was that neither of them had brought it up since.  School had started, and before Lexa could make heads or tails of the incident, the two girls were caught up in a whirlwind of meetings, course schedules, and fall activities. Lexa was almost sure that Clarke was still interested, but since that night, the signs of Clarke's continued affection amounted to a handful of lingering glances, a couple of hugs that lasted a bit too long, and one kiss on the cheek.

On the upside, Lexa had finally managed to introduce Clarke to her friends.  They had, as she’d suspected they would, taken to the charming new girl instantly.  Lexa wasn’t surprised that everyone had liked Clarke.  After all, what was not to like?  Clarke was intelligent, effervescent, and she listened as much as she talked.

“So, I guess people don’t get into the homecoming thing either, do they?”  Clarke smiled at Lexa as they hit the final few blocks of the walk home, noticeably dropping her pace to a lazy shuffle.  Lexa slowed her pace to match, hoping that this was Clark’s way of deliberately prolonging their time together.

“People do get pretty into it.  Granted, we lose the football game every year, but tons of students go anyway.  Besides, the carnival afterward and the dance on Saturday are the real the main events.”  Lexa tried not to sound too excited, as she steeled her nerve, ready to deliver her preprepare selling points regarding the dance.

Clarke glanced over at Lexa bashfully, looping her thumbs in the straps of her backpack, and fiddling with the fabric.  “Oh, that’s cool, I guess.  I never went to stuff like that at my old school.”

Lexa smiled at Clarke hopefully.  “Well, maybe you should give it a try now that you’re here.  It's usually pretty fun and the DJ they brought in last year was great.  You would have liked the music.”  Lexa crossed her fingers, tucking them in her jacket pocket so Clarke couldn’t see.  The blonde didn’t seem sold on the idea at all, but Lexa had an ace up her sleeve.  “They’re going to have a live music this year. It's an 80’s cover band.”

A smile appeared on Clarke’s face, and Lexa knew she’d said the right thing.  Clarke cocked her eyebrow and pushed Lexa playfully.  “Something tells me you don’t usually talk up the homecoming dance this hard.”

Lexa’s heart jumped into her throat, and she clenched her jaw, hoping that she wasn’t turning bright red.  She had been so sure of her subtlety.  “Um. I, uh…”  She choked on her words, desperately thinking of something smooth to say.  “I mean, my friends and I always go in a big group.  We get dressed up and go out for dinner beforehand.  Everyone always has a good time, and we’d all miss you if you didn’t go.”

“Me especially,” she added after a moment, swallowing hard at as they strode to a stop in front of Clark’s house.

Clarke was staring at the sidewalk and shuffling nervously; her eyes fixed on her feet.  When she looked back up, she seemed worried but smiled anyway, giving Lexa a brief hug.  “Maybe.”  With that, the blonde girl turned, skipping up the steps to her front door.  She turned, gazing longingly at the brunette and biting her lip.  “I promise I’ll think about it!”

Lexa watched Clarke disappear inside her house and sighed.  She hoped she hadn’t been too obvious, though she supposed it wouldn’t matter, come tonight.  The girl was determined to ask Clarke to the dance either way, so there was no turning back now.  She only hoped that she’d said the right combination of things to peak Clark’s interest.  Besides, what Lexa had said had been true.  Everyone was hoping that Clarke would decide to come, though Lexa had conveniently left out that they were hoping she’d come as Lexa’s date.

Lexa’s nerves began to buzz as she made her way up the path to her front door.  This would be her first time asking a girl on a date at all, let alone a date to a major school event.  She could honestly say she’d never been more nervous in her life.

Lexa made her way to her bedroom and carefully inventoried the items she’d laid out for that evening.  Everything she needed was there, the sign, a flashlight, string lights she would be using to decorate the bay window.  She took a deep breath.  It would go well; it had to.

* * *

Like clockwork, Clarke went to bed every night at 10:00 PM sharp.  She kept her bedroom window curtains closed these days, but the material was thin enough that Lexa noticed every evening when the lights turned off, and 10:00 PM was when Lexa would go to work.  She had everything ready.  The blinking, star-shaped string lights were hung up around the bay window. The sign was ready to go. The flashlight had new batteries to make sure it was shining its strongest.  Lexa glanced down at the time on the screen of her phone.  It was 9:56 PM, almost showtime.  Lexa closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.  She went over the plan in her mind one more time.  She’d signal Clarke by shining the flashlight through her window, flip on the string lights, and hold up the sign.  “Simple,” Lexa thought.  “What could go wrong?”  Lexa watched as Clarke's bedroom window went dark, smiling as she reached over and grabbed the flashlight off the bay window seat.

Clarke sat up, her bedroom suddenly illuminated by a beam of light shining in through her window.  The light flashed several times, spilling through the thin curtains, and bothering Clarke’s eyes.  The light faded completely, leaving the room in darkness, but a few moments it was back again, three steady flashes and then nothing.  Clarke lay her head back on her pillow, only to be pulled from sleep again when the light began flashing a third time.

The blonde groaned, pulling the covers back and rubbing her eyes as she unceremoniously rolled out of bed.  Cautiously, she crept over through the dark bedroom to her window and peeled back the curtain, determined to find the source of her irritation.  Clarke squinted as the light flashed in her eyes one more time.  She blinked, her vision adjusting slowly to the sight in the bedroom window next door.

Lexa stood in the center of the bay window, surrounded by a halo of twinkling string lights.  She was grinning like a Cheshire cat, holding a poster-board sign, with with the words “will you go to homecoming with me?” written across it in bold, black letters.  Clarke covered her mouth with her hand and took a tentative step back, shocked.  A few moments passed, as she watched Lexa shift the sign nervously in her hands, shrugging her shoulders as though she thought Clarke might need clarification that the gesture was directed at her.

Lexa was growing more and more nervous by the second.  She’d expected a nod, or a thumbs up, anything but the non-reaction Clarke was currently giving her.  The brunette stared at Clarke, still frozen in the window, her heart racing as she waited for an acknowledgment.  A second later Clarke walked out of view, reappearing, phone in hand.  Lexa watched as the blonde held the phone to her ear, reaching for her own when it began buzzing in her pocket.  She set the sign down and pressed the answer call button.

“Please, tell me this is a yes.”

“Lexa…”

“Or at least a probably.”

“Lexa…”

“Because I sort of already bought tickets to the dance.”

“Lexa I can’t.”

Lexa felt her heart shatter into a million pieces, the shards sinking into her stomach.  The smile faded from her face, and she stood in stunned silence, staring at Clarke, unsure of what to say.  Part of Lexa, a big part, wanted to start crying.  Part of her wanted to turn and run.  More than anything she wanted to ask why, but the words simply wouldn’t come to her.

It was Clarke who broke the silence first.  She stood in her window biting her bottom lip, and trying to find the right words to let Lexa down easily.

“Lexa, that was so sweet of you but…”

“You can’t go?”

Clarke sighed nervously, watching as Lexa’s eyes became just the tiniest bit glassy.

“Is that… I mean, you can’t go at all?”

Clarke nodded again.  “I’m very sorry.”

Lexa curled and uncurled her toes, clenching them in the hopes that it would help her hold back the sob that was building in her throat.

“Um, is it because you would be uncomfortable going with a girl?”

Clarke pressed her palm to the glass pane of her window and shook her head vigorously.  “No, no. Lexa, I swear that that’s not the reason.  I don’t have any problem with that at all.”

Lexa nodded.  “So, you just don’t want to go with me.”

Lexa waited for an answer as she watched Clarke sigh and look down at her feet for a few minuted.  The silence became awkward after a while, and Lexa began feeling even worse, sure that she had finally arrived at the right answer.  Finally, Clarke looked back up at her, her tears threatening to spill over.

“Lexa,  I do like you.  I like you a lot, actually.  Of course, I would go on a date with you. It just that, a homecoming dance…”  She paused mid-sentence, looking down again, unable to hold Lexa’s gaze.

Lexa sighed into her phone’s receiver and closed her eyes.  “Clarke, just be honest with me.”

It took a moment for Clarke to continue speaking.  When she finally did Lexa could hear the tremor in her voice as the blonde did her best not to cry.  “Things like homecomings and formals and the prom, they’re supposed to be this opportunity for you to feel beautiful.  When you have a disfigurement like my scar..."

She sighed. "You don’t know what it’s like to know that, no matter how many hours you spend doing your hair, or putting on makeup, or picking out the perfect dress, all anyone is going to see when they look at you is something ugly. Girls like me don’t get to go to homecoming and feel beautiful, we go and watch people stare at us and whisper.”

Clarke was genuinely crying now as she gazed back up at Lexa.  “Lexa, the way you asked me was so amazingly sweet, but I’m sorry. I just can’t go with you.”

Lexa mulled Clark’s explanation over in her head, letting it marinate there.   She didn’t know whether she should feel better or worse.  On the one hand, Clarke had confirmed outright that she did indeed like Lexa.  That, at least, was fantastic news.  None-the-less, Lexa felt awful to know the real reason that Clarke didn’t want to go.  In some ways, she would rather have had Clarke tell her that she genuinely wasn’t interested in going out with her.  But, to hear Clarke use words like disfigurement and ugly to describe herself was crushing.  As far as Lexa was concerned Clarke was, inside and out, the prettiest girl in the world.  That her experiences had made her believe otherwise broke Lexa’s heart.  She sighed, searching for anything she could say that might convince Clarke to come.

“You couldn’t just wear a shawl, or a jacket like you do at school?”

“I suppose, but it wouldn’t be the same.  Things like homecoming are meant to be people’s night to show off, and I’d just feel like I was hiding the whole time.  Besides, people ask all kinds of questions, and eventually, somebody alway sees.”

Lexa swallowed hard, the realization that there was no changing Clarke’s mind sinking in.  She let out a long, slow breath as she stared at the girl in the bedroom window.  “Ok Clarke, I understand.”

“Lexa, I do think that the way you asked me was incredibly sweet.  The sign, the lights.  It was perfect.

Lexa nodded.  “Thanks.  I guess I’ll see you at school.”  With that she, hit the end call button, reaching over to turn off the string lights and close the curtains.

* * *

George’s bespectacled eyes peered at his daughter over the top of the paper, watching her slump against the kitchen table miserably.  She rested her cheek on one hand, using the other to push cereal around with a spoon.  George folded the top of the paper down and furrowed his brow.  “No appetite this morning?”  

Lexa shrugged, continuing to stare off at nothing in particular.  George’s mustache bristled as he shifted his mouth from side to side, anxious to get to the bottom of his daughter’s melancholy.

“You nervous about the game against Northwood?”

Lexa shook her head glumly.

“Worried about academic decathlon?”

She shook her head again.

“Right.”  George folded his paper in half and creased it across the middle, setting it aside.  “So, I assume this is about the Griffin girl then?”

Lexa didn’t answer, but the deep sigh as she folded her head into the crook of her arm and rested her forehead against the table gave George all the confirmation the needed.  “I take it asking her to homecoming didn’t go as well as you’d hoped?”

“She said no,” Lexa’s muffled voice resonated from the crook of her arm.

George folded his arms across his chest.  “Well, did she at least give you a reason?”  He waited for the duration of a long silent pause, during which Lexa continued to hide her face, giving no indication that she intended to answer his question.  For all his fatherly patience, George was completely unaccustomed to watching his daughter mope or engaging in displays of teenage melodramatics.  Lexa was usually so steady and sure of herself. Though he knew that the high emotions were an inevitable part of a teenage crush,  he had to admit that the histrionics regarding all things Clarke Griffin were trying his patience. His ability to wait out an answer finally gone, he leaned over toward her, his voice becoming sterner.  “Lexa…”

Lexa finally picked her head up just enough to make eye contact with her father, glaring at him over her folded arm.  “She doesn’t want to go because she’s worried about how people will react if they see her scar.  Kids at her old school were nasty about it.  They called her names.”  She dropped her head back onto the table

George straightened up, his face shifting from frustration to mild bewilderment.  “Other kids gave her a hard time about that?”

Lexa nodded wordlessly, and George frowned.  “Well, that’s terrible. He paused, “you don’t think the kids at your school would do something like that though, would they?”

Lexa finally sat up and leaned back against the wall of the breakfast nook.  She rolled her head towards her father and held his gaze.  “I don’t think so.  I mean it’s not like nobody ever gets made fun of, but on the other hand, BCC has a pretty strong anti-bullying policy, so people kind of leave each other alone.

Lexa thought for a moment, pushing her cereal around again.  "Besides, I think even the biggest jerks at our school would probably consider something like a burn scar off limits as far as teasing goes.  I mean, Genie Hodges had a pretty huge port wine stain birthmark on her cheek, and I’ve never heard anyone say anything nasty about it.”

George nodded, considering everything his daughter had said, and thinking about Clarke’s position.  For a few more minutes, they sat there in silence, Lexa staring off into space and George lost in thought.  Finally, he uncrossed his arms, folding them over the table top as he leaned in and looked at Lexa.  “Do you remember Joshua Johnson?”

Lexa gazed over at her father blankly, running the name through her head a few times before she finally placed how she knew it.  “The boy who used to deliver our paper when I was little?”

George nodded.  “Did you know that he joined the Marine Corps?”  

Lexa shook her head and waited for George to continue.

“Well, he did, right after high school.  When he told his parents he was enlisting, they asked me if I would try to talk him into going into the Air Force instead, but Josh had his heart set on the Marines.  Anyway, he ended up doing a deployment to Iraq in 2007.  Three weeks before he was supposed to come home, his Humvee hit an IED.”

Lexa’s eyes popped wide open as the horrible image flooded her mind.  “Was he ok?”

George jutted his bottom lip out and rocked his head back and forth a bit, considering the question.  “Well, for the most part, yes.  Everyone in his vehicle survived, but Joshua’s right arm was so badly damaged, that his doctors ended up having to amputate it above the elbow.”

“That’s awful,” Lexa cringed.

George nodded, pursing his lips as he continued.  “MmHmm, Josh thought so too.  He had a pretty rough go of it after they finalized his medical discharge.  He came home, wouldn’t leave the house, barely talked to his parents.  It took a pretty long time for him to come around, but eventually, he did.”

Lexa leaned in intently, her father’s story having pulled her in despite her best efforts to maintain neutrality.  “What changed?”

George smirked.  It was nearly imperceptible, but Lexa could tell it was there.  “Well, someone very smart got him set up with an amputee group at Walter Reed.  Once Josh realized that there were lots of other people out there facing the same challenges he was, and saw that they were doing all kinds of things he thought he’d never be able to do again, he started to come back to life little by little.”

George smiled and leaned in a little closer to his daughter.  “Anyway, my point is that what Josh needed was to realize that he wasn’t alone.  He needed to see that other people understood what he was going through, and empathized.  Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

Lexa sighed, considering her father’s story carefully before responding.  “You think that Clarke feels isolated?”

George nodded.  “Homecoming or no homecoming, I think that it might help Clarke to know she isn’t the only one who feels like she’s got something to hide.”

George smiled, patting the back of his daughter’s hand and leaning back to grab his paper again.  “Maybe, you could find a way to show her that she isn’t the only person who feels like she is different.”

Lexa watched as her father open the newspaper back up, returning his attention to the sports section.  She mulled the idea over in her head before rising from the table abruptly.  Lexa grabbed her cereal bowl, emptying the mushy contents into the garbage disposal and rinsing it under the sink as she looked over at her father, his nose still buried in the paper.

“You know, I think you just gave me an idea.”  With that she dashed through the doorway into the living room, reappearing in the kitchen a moment later, as though she’d forgotten something.

“Poppa?”

George looked up from the sports section and locked one eyebrow.  “Yes, dear?”

“You were the one who set Josh up with the support group weren’t you?”

George glanced over at her, setting his paper down on the table slowly and taking a deep breath.  “No actually, that was your mother.”

Lexa cocked her head, her brow furrowing in surprise.  “What?  How does mom even know about that stuff?”

George gave his daughter a revealing look.  “Lexa, That’s part of your mother’s job on the village council.  She’s in charge of making sure that veterans in Martin’s Addition get connected with the services they need when they come home.”  

“Seriously?”

Lexa seemed genuinely taken aback by the information, and George sighed, shaking his head.  “Sweetheart…”  He stopped, pausing for a moment to formulate his words in a way that would sound instructional but affectionate.  “I know that you and I sometimes joke about your mother being a busy body, and I know that you get frustrated about how involved she is with the council, but the truth is that your mom is the way she is because she genuinely cares about people.  Believe it or not, she does a lot to make sure that people around here are taken care of.”

Lexa’s demeanor softened with the realization that she had, perhaps, been judging her mother too harshly.  She felt bashful, suddenly unsure of the correctness of her opinions.  “Really?”

Her father pursed his lips and bobbed his head up and down.  George reached over and grabbed his coffee, taking a long slow sip.  “Absolutely.  When the Taylor’s found out that their baby was deaf, it was your mom who convinced the council to get the street signs in their area updated.  Now drivers know to be extra careful when they pass through because a child with hearing impairment lives on that road. When Mr. Grossman’s MS got bad enough that he had to start using a wheelchair, you mom was the one that shanghaied all the businesses in town into getting up to code with their accessibility.  Your mom does an awful lot for people Lexa, you and I included.”

Lexa stood in stunned silence, a sense of shame sinking in as she thought about all of the times she’d been dismissive of her mother's exploits in local politics.  “I didn’t know about any of that stuff.”

George smirked at her as he took another sip of coffee, and glanced down at the box scores.  “I know you didn’t.”  He chuckled a bit, shooting her a knowing glance.  “You know, Lexa, your mom knows you love her, but it wouldn’t hurt if you let her know that you respect her.”  With that, his face was once again buried in the paper, leaving his daughter to wince at the truth of his statement.

Lexa turned and made her way out of the kitchen and into the living room.  She dropped onto the couch and pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contact list until she came to the right name.  She pressed the call button, and held the phone to her ear, listening to it ring several times before a voice answered.  “I know! I know! I’m late again. I swear, I’m on my way to pick you up right now. I’ll be there in two minutes!”

Lexa laughed as she listened to Raven rattled off an excuse, explaining why she was running behind for the millionth time.  “Raven I’m not mad that you’re late to pick me up for school.  Are Lincoln, Octavia, and Bellamy with you right now?.”

“Yep!”

“Ok, put me on speaker, I need you guys to help me with something.”

* * *

Clarke rubbed her hand across the bathroom mirror a few times, trying to remove the fog from the shower.  She smiled slightly, examining her reflection, clear skin, bright blue eyes, and messy blonde hair.  A moment later Clarke's smiled turned to a grimace, as she turned slightly, her scar tissue became visible.  She stared at it for a moment.  The gnarled swirls of grafted flesh covered the top of her left arm, her entire left shoulder, and a portion of her back.  She hated her scar, willed it away with all her might, but no matter how many medical treatments she’d agreed to, or how many remedies she’d tried, it had barely faded over the years. She sighed, wrapping a towel tightly around her torso and securing it.  “Better to just accept it,” she thought as she set to work drying her hair.

A moment later, a knock on the bathroom door caught Clarke’s attention, and she shut off the blow-dryer.  “I’m in here.”

“Sweetie, it’s me,”  Abby’s voice echoed through the door.  “Can I come in for a second?”  Clarke tightened her towel and opened the door half way, peering out at her mother curiously.  “Is everything ok?”

Abby smiled and leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight of her daughter.  She reached over, pushing a loose strand of blonde hair from Clarke’s face, and wondering when the teenager had become so beautiful.  “Nothing’s wrong Clarke; I just wanted to check one more time to see if you’d changed your mind about tonight.”

Clarke sighed, giving her mother as serious a look as she could muster.  “Mom, I already told you I’m not going.  It’s a stupid homecoming dance; it doesn’t matter.”  She tightened her towel again and opened the door a little wider, allowing her mother into the room as she returned to the blow-dryer.

Abby took a seat on the edge of the bathtub, watching Clarke as she finished drying her blonde mane and began running a comb through it.  “I know it’s only a dance, but Clarke, this is your Senior year.  I’m just worried that if you skip traditions like this you’re going to and end up regretting it.  I don’t want you to feel like you missed out.”

Clarke looked down at the sink counter for a moment, wringing her hands as though she was considering changing her mind.  Finally, she looked over at her mother and shook her head.  “I’m okay mom.  I’m not going to regret not going, I promise.”  She gave her mother a halfhearted smile and made her way out of the bathroom.

“Well, you’re father, and I are still willing to drive you if you change your mind!”  Abby leaned out of the bathroom doorway, calling to Clarke as her daughter trudged down the hallway and disappeared into her bedroom.  Abby groaned, rising from the lip of the tub and making her way to the stairs, where an anxious Jake was waiting in the wings.  He stared at her expectantly and.  “Any luck?”

“I’m afraid not,”  Abby sighed as she took a spot next to her husband.  “I can tell she wants to go, but I don’t think she’d changing her mind.”  Jake exhaled a long slow breath and stared at the ceiling.  “Abby,” he looked over at her tentatively.  “Do you think the way she feels is our fault?  Maybe we should have tried harder to make her feel like it wasn’t a big deal.”

Abby shrugged as she peered at Jake out of the corner of her eye.  “Who knows.  I mean, I suppose we were the ones that started covering up her scar up in the first place, but nobody wants to send their little one off to school just to have them come home crying because they were picked on.  We did what we thought was right at the time.”

Jake nodded.  I just don’t want her to spend her entire life feeling like she has to hide it from everyone.”

Abby turned to face her husband, smiling as she ran her hand through his hair.  “Eventually she won’t, but right now she’s a teenager.  Teenagers hate feeling different.  It won’t last forever.”

* * *

Clarke rummaged in her chest of drawers, pulling out a worn pair of flannel pajama pants and an old college sweatshirt that had belonged to her father.  She pulled on the nightclothes and tied her hair back in a loose knot as she made her way to her bed.  Clarke pulled back the comforter and slid into the warm, soft sheets, settling into the mound of pillows as she prepared herself for a quiet night of reading, and an early bedtime.  She drew her knees up, grabbed her book off the side table and gingerly opening it to the last page she’d finished.  “It is just a school dance,” she reminded herself as she began reading.  “It isn’t important.”

Clarke had barely made it through a page when a tap on her window distracted her.  She looked up, but unable to notice anything amiss she returned to the book.  A moment later there was another sharp tap, then another.  Clarke looked up just in time to see a pebble hit the window and bounce off the glass.  For a moment she froze, thinking that this was exactly the way a scary story would start.  None the less, her curiosity become overpowering as she watched two more tiny pebbles ricochet off the glass.  Clarke placed her book on her nightstand and slowly pulled the covers off.  She crept out of bed, making her way over to the window and peering down into the yard below.

She scowled as soon as she saw the sight on the lawn below.  Clarke placed her hands on the window frame and pushed it open, sticking her head out into the chilly night air.  “What are you doing here?  You scared me half to death!”

Lexa straightened her dress and stared up at Clarke nervously, hoping that the plan she’d come up with would be well received.  “It’s not just me Clarke.  We all came to try and talk you into coming with us.”

From the shadows around the side of the house, four other people appeared, walking up behind Lexa.  Lincoln, Raven, Bellamy, and Octavia stood waving up at her from her yard, all dressed in formal attire and clad in various strange accessories.  Clarke peered closer trying to make out the unique additions to each person’s outfit.

From her spot on the grass, Lexa smiled, steadying herself as she began delivering the speech she’d prepared.  “Clarke, we know that you’re afraid of what people are going to think if they see your scar.  We thought that it might change how you felt if we showed you some things that embarrass us.  Please come down.  I promise if this doesn’t change your mind we will leave.”

Clarke rolled her eyes as she stared at Lexa in annoyance.  She narrowed seethed in the brunette’s direction, but the girl didn’t budge.  Finally, she groaned, letting out a deep sigh.  “Fine, but I’m only coming down for a minute.”

Clarke disappeared into the house, and closed the window, leaving a nervous Lexa waiting on the lawn.  She looked at the group behind her and gave them a small thumbs up.  “Guys, I think this is going to work.”

Octavia shot her a death glare.  “I hope so Lexa because we all look ridiculous right now.”

Lincoln squeezed Octavia’s arm and laughed.  “Speak for yourself.  I think I look awesome.”

A second later Clarke, rounded the corner, stopping dead in her tracks as she got a close up of her five friends.    “What on earth are you all wearing?”

Lexa smiled at Clarke and took a few cautious steps forward.  “Clarke, I know that we don’t understand what it’s like to have a scar like yours, but all of us know what it’s like to have things we don’t necessarily want people to see.  We decided that if you come with us tonight, and let people see your scar, we’d let everyone see the things that embarrassed us too.

Clarke walked over to the group and peered at them, her eyes fixing first on Lincoln, who was wearing a wig, a giant afro of loose corkscrew curls.  “Lincoln, what is that?”

He chuckled, rolling his eyes.  “This is what my hair look like when I grow it out.  I used to get made fun of all the time, so I started shaving it sophomore year.  I know it’s not the same thing, but I’ve always been embarrassed about it.”  He ran his hand through the wig, laughing nervously.

Clarke took a step to the side and looked up and down at Octavia, who wore a patch oven her right eye, and an enormous pair of coke bottle glasses.  Octavia sighed as Clarke gave her the once over.  “I had amblyopia when I was a kid, which is a nice way of saying a lazy eye.  I had to wear the patch over my good eye every day for most of the second grade, and nearly everyone classed me Petey the Pirate until I went to middle school.”

Clarke tried not to laugh.  “And the glasses.”

Octavia frowned.  “I got contacts just before high school, but before then I only had these.  I've always had all-around terrible vision.”

Clarke nodded, making her way over to Raven, who’s gorgeous white dress was somewhat obscured by large, plastic apparatus wrapped around her back and waist.  Clarke gazed at the contraption with wide eyes.  “Raven, what on earth is that thing?”

Raven laughed heartily, smiling at her friend.  “That my dear is a corrective back brace.  I had to wear this pretty much all of middle school because I had scoliosis.  Technically, I wore it under my clothes, but it was still super embarrassing to have everyone in the locker room see it when we’d change for gym.  As I’m sure you can imagine, the popular girls were super understanding and sensitive about it.”

Clarke smiled understandingly.  “That sucks, I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

Raven just shrugged, giving the blonde a smirk and a wink.  “Meh.  I got hot and tall, and they got acne.  I win.”

Clarke laughed at this, making her way over to where Bellamy stood, rocking back and forth in a suit and tie, his hands in his pockets.  She smiled up at him.  “So what’s yours?”

Bellamy rolled his eyes and withdrew one hand, reaching up to his mouth.  He smiled, and grabbed his top row of teeth between his thumb and index finger, giving it a quick yank.  Clarke tried not to gasp as Bellamy’s four front teeth pulled away, revealing a large gap.  He held the false teeth aloft and wiggled them in the air, pointing to his mouth.  “I was pithing in the batheball thtate championthip two yeaws ago and took a hawd line drive wight to the mouth.”  I had to get a parthial denthur to weplace all the teeth it knocked out.”  He lisped heavily as he spoke, and grinned widely at her, showing off the large gap in his mouth.  “But I thtill thwow a perfect game that night, with or without my teeth.”

Raven punched him in the arm.  “Somehow he also managed to take Sarah Schwartzman home with him, even with that big hole in his mouth.”

Bellamy smiled.  “Thee thought it was thexthy.”

Clarke giggled at Bellamy, holding her hand over her eyes as she shook her head.  After a moment she looked over at Lexa, the only one left in the group who didn’t seem to have an embarrassing addition to her homecoming outfit which, Clarke had to admit, Lexa looked stunning wearing.  She wore an off-white dress, with a straight across neckline, that hit just above the knee.  Her hair was straightened and glossy, and spilled over her shoulders, accentuating the soft, slight tan of her sun-kissed skin.  Lexa wasn't wearing much makeup, only some eyeshadow, and lipstick, but it was just enough to make her look the tiniest bit sultry, and as Clarke stared at her, she couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to kiss the beautiful girl.  Clarke walked over to the brunette, looking her up and down.  “And what about you?  Where’s your secret shame?”

Lexa smiled, holding up a finger to let Clarke know she needed a minute.  Lexa reached for the small purse at her side and opened it, pulling out a strange looking strap complete with wires and metal fasteners.  Slowly, Lexa placed the strap around the back of her head and opened her mouth, fastening to ends to something under her pallet.  She looked back up at Clarke smiling as she displayed the ridiculous looking headgear.  “I started getting orthodontic work done when I was eleven.  First I had a pallet expander, then braces when I was twelve, and all kinds of corrective stuff I had to wear at night.  The braces came off a few years ago, but my orthodontist left in the pallet expander so that everything would stay in place.  I have to keep it until I stop growing, and I’m supposed to wear this every night to make sure that everything grows the right way.  I’ve never worn it in front of anyone until now though.  I was too embarrassed to even tell these guys.”  She pointed at the group.

Clarke smiled, doing her best not to laugh.  When she finally had control of herself, she looked around at the group one more time, her eyes becoming glassy as she took in the sweet display.  She looked back at Lexa and sighed, shaking her head gently,  and considering what her friends were offering to do for her.  “Do you guys mind waiting while I get ready?”

* * *

It was well past midnight when Raven’s car pulled up between Lexa's and Clark’s houses.  The giddy girls spilled out of the vehicle and onto the sidewalk, shoes in hand, laughing hysterically as they waved at the car that was now disappearing down the dark street.  Lexa gazed over at Clarke with a reverent smiled that extended from ear to ear.  She didn’t know how the girl had managed it, but in the half an hour they had waited for Clarke to throw on a dress and makeup, the blonde had managed to make herself look even more radiant than ever.

At the dance, not one single person had mentioned Clarke’s scar, and what was more, everyone had stopped to tell her how incredible she looked.  As far as Lexa was concerned Clarke had been the most beautiful girl there by a mile, and she was certain that everyone in the room had been jealous of her as they watched Clarke dance in her arms.  Lexa blushed thinking about how good it felt when Clarke leaned in close during the last song, resting her head on Lexa’s shoulder.  As far as she was concerned, nights didn’t get better than this one, and the brunette wished it didn’t have to end.

Clarke leaned over, wrapping her hands around Lexa’s bicep and pulling her close.  She smiled dreamily, gazing into her eyes as though in a trance.  “Walk me to my door?”  Lexa nodded and looped her hand around Clarke’s waist.  “Of course.”

The girls made their way up the walkway slowly, holding tight to one another.  When they reached Clarke’s front porch, they broke apart and faced each other, neither one sure what to do.

Clarke reached up to Lexa’s cheek and brushed her fingers against the headgear the girl had faithfully worn all throughout the dance.  “I think you can take this off now.  You more than kept your promise.”

Lexa sighed in relief, quickly unlatching the device and shoving it back in her clutch. She rubbed her jaw with her free hand, opening and closing it a few times to ride herself of the tenderness.  “Ugh, thank g-d.  That thing was starting to hurt.”

Clarke smiled, closing the gap between them and reaching up to rub a thumb over Lexa’s jawline tenderly.  She gazed into Lexa’s eyes and pressed her body close.

“Does that help?”

Lexa was suddenly frozen solid.  She tried to speak, but couldn’t manage more than a nod as she stared at the gorgeous girl in front of her.  Everything in Lexa’s body told her they this was the moment to make a move.  Her brain screamed for her to lean in and kiss Clarke but she couldn’t move. A split second later, she was beaten to the punch when Clarke cupped the brunette's cheeks and leaned up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to Lexa’s.  

The kiss began sweet and soft, and as Lexa regained control of her body, she reached for Clark’s waist, steadying herself and pulling the smaller girl closer.  Soon, Lexa was sucking gently on Clarke’s bottom lip, as the kiss grew deeper, needier, less controlled.  Clark’s hands snaked around Lexa’s neck.  A moment later, Lexa felt something warm and wet on her face, and she pulled away to see a single tear was rolling down Clark’s cheek.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Clarke shook her head, fixing her eyes on Lexa’s  neckline.  “Nothing’s wrong.  You did everything right.  You just, kind of feel too good to be true.”

Lexa sighed, pulling the smaller girl to her and rocking their bodies gently as Clarke lay her head on Lexa’s shoulder.  “Clarke, I’ve never met anyone like you before.  I’ve never felt this way about anyone.  All I want to do is be good for you.”

Clarke laughed into the crook of Lexa’s neck and lifted her head.  “Well, you’re doing a  good job of that so far.”  She placed a soft kiss on her cheek and pulled away as the porch lights started blinking.  “I think that’s probably my mom letting me know it’s time to come in.”

Lexa blushed at the thought of Abby, watching them from just inside the door.  “I guess I should get going then.”  She leaned over placing a final, chaste kiss to Clark’s lips before turning and making her way down the porch stairs.

Clarke was about to open the door when Lexa’s voice called out to her.  “Clarke?”

She turned, realizing that Lexa had reappeared.  “Hmm?”

Lexa took a deep breath, holding it nervously for a moment before she spoke.  “Do you think… What would you think about the idea of us, maybe, dating?”

A smile spread across Clarke’s face slowly, growing until it reached from ear to ear.  “I thought you’d never ask.”  With that Clarke disappeared inside, her back pressed to the door as she let her head fall into her hands, moaning into them triumphantly.

* * *

Lexa stepped across the threshold of her front door and tiptoed into the foyer cautiously, not wanting to make too much noise.  She crept up the stairs stealthily, making her way to her bedroom as quietly as possible.  She'd almost made it through her door when her mother called to her from down the hall.  “Alexandra, is that you?”

Lexa gritted her teeth, turning to see her mother leaning out of her bedroom doorway, rubbing her eyes.  “It’s terribly late sweetie.  I thought you said you’d be home by twelve.”

Lexa grinned sheepishly.  “I’m sorry, I just lost track of time.”

June yawned,  “Well, I suppose it’s all right just this once.  Did you have fun?”

Lexa smiled at her mother, nodding her head vigorously.  “Best night ever.”

“Well, I’m glad.  Now, get to bed before you wake up your father.”

Lexa nodded, creeping halfway into her room before she leaned back out and whispered down the hallway.  “Mom?”

June reappeared in the doorway, eyebrow raised.  “What is it sweetie?”

Lexa smiled at her mother, thinking of the conversation she and her father had had.  “I just wanted to tell you that I think what you do is important.  I’m really proud of you.”

June looked stunned but smiled none-the-less, nodding at Lexa.  “Well thank you, Alexandra, that’s very sweet of you to say.”

Lexa smiled.  “Goodnight mom.”

June smiled back at her daughter.  “Sleep tight, baby.”

  
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	3. Bedroom Window 3- Pt. 1

The walls in the Reyes’ den glowed muted tones of blue as Tom Hank’s face flashed across the screen. Six, teenagers in various states of laze lay strewn over deep armchairs and cozy couches of the room. Some watched the glowing screen of the television anxiously. Others, already disinterested in the movie, checked their phones absentmindedly, looking for a distraction. In the corner, his girlfriend cuddled up in his lap; Lincoln began to doze off, overtired from a long day of classes, practices and club meetings. No one said anything about the two figures noticeably absent from the room.

“We should get back.” Lexa pulled away from her girlfriend, desperate for air. She pressed her back against the cold surface of the sink, her heavy breathing echoing off the ceramic tiling in the darkened room. In spite of herself, she let her hands drop suggestively below the blonde’s waistline, her palms cupping the ample curves of Clarke’s backside.

“I am sure nobody has noticed,” Clarke claimed Lexa’s lips once more, kissing her hungrily, desperate to stretch their make-out session for as long as possible.

“Clarke,” Lexa pulled away again. “We’re going to get caught.”

Clarke kissed a trail down Lexa’s jaw, pausing when lips reached collarbone, her breath warming the patch of shoulder and neck that always elicited moans from her girlfriend. “At least this time we won't be getting caught by your father.” Clarke groaned, halting her ministrations as she remembered the scolding they’d received a week ago.

“I’m sorry baby, but you know my parent’s don’t allow locked doors.” Lexa's breath caught as a hand snaked around the front of her hip, dipping slightly below her waistline. Her heart raced wildly as the tips of Clarke's fingers grazed the delicate skin of her lower abdomen, and a thumb played suggestively at the button of her jeans.

Lexa’s hands moved from Clarke's backside to her face, cupping cheeks and pulling the smaller girl closer as she brought their lips together again. Clarke's fingers began trailing lower and lower on her waist, and suddenly the room felt like a sauna, far too hot for the layers of clothes they were still wearing.

Lexa tugged frantically at the zipper of her hoodie, discarding it without a second thought as she watched Clarke follow suit. The blonde pulled off her sweater and added it to the pile on the floor, revealing a tight tank top that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Lexa gripped her around the waist, pulling until their bodies crashed together and lips pressed to lips.

Lusty and emboldened, Lexa slid her hands into the waistband of Clarke's pants, running her fingers over the lacy fabric underneath. The action earned a soft moan from her gasping girlfriend, and suddenly every touch felt electric and urgent. Clarke's eyes closed, her head tilting back as Lexa began placing kisses along her neck, forging a path to her chest with lips and teeth and tongue.

Always respectful and hesitant, Lexa slowed when she reached the apex of the valley between Clarke's breasts. She stalled, unsure of how far to push her luck until she felt Clarke grab her hand and lead it gently under the hem of her shirt. Lexa fought for breath, trying to give her brain time to catch up with the parts of her that were less inclined to think her current the situation through.

Five months into the relationship and things were heating up considerably between the two girls. In the past two weeks, however, every chance at intimacy had been interrupted by frustrated parents and irritated school officials. When an impromptu movie night was called at Raven’s, Lexa and Clarke had jumped at the opportunity, sneaking away to the solitude of the downstairs half-bath midway through the film. Soon hands and mouths were roaming desperately over flushed skin as they tried to capitalize on the moment alone.

“Guys, I know you’re in there!” An annoyed voice bellowed from the hallway; its tenor laced with desperation. Lexa knew she should care, but Clarke's hips were grinding against her thigh, and she had the blonde’s perfect ass cupped in her hands, and suddenly all thoughts of decorum and decency were lost. The person in the hallway could relieve himself in the yard for all she cared.

A moment later a fist began pounding on the door, breaking the mood entirely. “Come on; I need to pee!”

“Just a second!” Lexa gritted her teeth, unsure which she was more annoyed at, being caught or being interrupted.

The girls rearranged their clothing hastily before Clarke pulled open the door to reveal a scowling Bellamy.

“What the hell, you two?” The curly haired athlete growled at them, his hands cupped over his crotch as he shifted from foot to foot. “I almost pissed myself!”

“Sorry,” a flushed Lexa panted as she slunk out of the bathroom, Clarke in tow.

Back in the den, a sea of knowing smirks waited. The girls blushed furiously as their return aroused a cacophony of catcalls and whistles.

“You two get lost or something?” Raven asked, feigning a tone of mock innocence from the couch. “You were gone for a long time.”

“Shut up,” Lexa rolled her eyes, grabbing a nearby throw pillow and tossing it at her smug friend.

Raven cackled, swatting at the incoming decorative accessory. “I guess that’s a yes.”

Lexa sunk into a free space on one of the couches and settled into the pocket between the cushion and armrest. Clarke dropped down next to her, laying back against her girlfriend's chest. “Did we miss anything?’

Octavia grinned slyly from her spot on Lincoln’s lap. “Only the last third of the movie. Now you’ll never know how Sully ends.”

Lexa’s face turned bright red when she realized how long they’d been missing. She tried desperately to act nonchalant as she eyed the younger Blake sibling. “I’m good, O. Pretty sure I know where the plot was going.”

Clarke tried her best to hold back giggles at the embarrassed quiver in her girlfriend's voice. Lexa was a force of nature when it came to school and sports, but the mere mention of sex and physical affection turned the usually confident girl into an awkward mess. She placed a hand on Lexa’s knee, rubbing her thumb soothingly over the curve of it.

“Give us a break, Octavia. Between school and Lexa’s dad’s rules, it’s been a nightmare trying to get a moment alone. You can’t blame us for taking advantage of an excellent opportunity.”

“I can’t,” Octavia agreed, smirking up at Lincoln. “It was the same way when Lincoln and I started dating.”

Lexa cocked her head to the side curiously, “I don’t remember your mom having a problem with you two dating.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “My mom was all right with it. Bellamy was the one who freaked out. Every time Lincoln came over, he’d insist on hanging around and cockblocking us.”

“Jesus, Octavia!” Bellamy reappeared as if on cue. “Please, never use those words about you and your boyfriend.”

“Oh my g-d, Bellamy!” Octavia sat up on Lincoln’s lap, glaring daggers at her brother. “Would you please stop acting like your my priest! My boyfriend and I have sex. It’s fine. You’ll survive.”

Lincoln wrapped his burly arms around Octavia, pulling her tight to his barrel chest. “Babe, you’re going to get me killed. Let’s not torture your easily provoked brother, ok?”

Bellamy scowled. “Yeah, let’s not.”

“Ugh!” Octavia argued, settling back onto Lincoln’s lap, despite her brother’s disapproval. “Bellamy runs through women like he’s sacking Troy, but you don’t see me insisting on being the third wheel.”

Lincoln looked sympathetically at the senior Blake. “In all fairness,” he bit his lip. “I’d probably act the same way if I had a little sister.”

“Traitor!” Octavia punched him in the arm. “Such a double standard!”

“It is,” he agreed. “But, then again it’s not the worst thing in the world to have a brother who cares about you.”

“True indeed,” Clarke cut in, hoping to end the argument.

A moment later, Jasper and Monty wandered in from the kitchen, dragging a chilled case of Blue Moon with them. With the tension finally eased, the conversation turned to the swim team and the upcoming State Tournament. The fervor grew until Lincoln and Bellamy were locked, toe to toe, in a battle of one-upmanship, each boy insisting that he would end the competition with more victories under his belt.

“Hey,” Clarke smiled, looking up at Lexa as their friend argued in the background.

“Hey yourself,” Lexa smiled. She glanced affectionately down at the blonde, her lazy smile a little lopsided from the beer.

“You know if nobody’s paying attention we could…”

“Hey, weirdos!”

Lexa flinched as a pillow flew past her face. She scowled at Raven, who grinned back, sipping her long neck smugly. “Stop making googly eyes at each other and come play with us.”

“Play what?” Clarke sat up, detangling herself from Lexa's arms, and eliciting a grumble at the loss of her body warmth.

“Truth or dare,” Raven offered. “You game?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. "I am if Lexa is. Babe?” She looked at the girl behind her expectantly.

Lexa rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

Raven raised her hands triumphantly, cracked open another beer. She settled into her recliner, flipping the bottle cap onto the coffee table with her thumb. “Who’s up?”

Crickets could be heard as the unwilling friends looked between one another, silently debating who would be the sacrificial lamb. Finally, Monty sighed, leaning back against the couch from his seat on the floor.

“Ok, I"ll take one for the team.”

Raven’s smile grew even wider. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he chuckled. “Do your worst, Raven.”

“You think about Harper McGuire when you beat your meat, don’t you?”

Monty’s eyes grew wide for a split second. He regained his composure almost immediately, shrugged, and feigning indifference. “Honestly? Yeah.”

“I’ll pass that along to her.” Raven grinned wickedly, winking at her friend as he took a swig from his beer and stared at her contemptuously.

“Noted,” Monty huffed, shaking his head. He glanced over at Jasper.

“Ok, bro. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Jasper chuckled, wincing as he swallowed a too big mouthful of beer.

“I dare you to show us the tattoo you got last summer.”

Jasper coughed, nearly choking on the drink as he fought back laughter. When he'd finished hacking he groaned, his head lolling back as he accepted his fate. The skinny young man stood, unbuckling his belt buckle and pulling his pants and boxers down just enough to expose his backside. A personified cupcake with wide, cartoonish eyes grinned at the crowd from his left butt cheek, giving them an enthusiastic thumbs up.

“No fucking way!” Bellamy murmured, leaning in and examining the image a little closer. “What on earth made you think that was a good idea?”

“White rum and a tattoo artist who was way too pretty for me,” Jasper smirked, remembering the weekend he’d gotten the absurd image etched into his skin. “I got it after that surf invitational that Alana Blanchard was guest judging. She called me a ‘cupcake ass’ after she watched me wipe out on some super tiny wave.” Jasper narrowed his eyes, staring earnestly at his friends. “Best compliment ever.”

“Lincoln cracking up into fits of hysterical laughter. “I think you might have misinterpreted that one, buddy.”

Jasper shrugged. “Anything Alana Blanchard says to me is a compliment.”

Jasper hiked his pants back above his waist and buckled them. He snatched his beer off the table, finishing it in one quick drag. “Who’s next?”

The gangly boy extended an arm, his index finger pointing accusatorially around the room. “I choose,” he turned in a circle until he was eye to eye with Clarke. “You. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” Clarke swallowed a hard lump as she prepared herself for the ribbing she was surely about to receive.

Jasper smiled contemptuously. “Tell us, Clarke, how is Lexa in bed?”

Clarke cringed. It wasn’t that the question bothered her, but she knew it would be humiliating for Lexa. She felt the body behind her stiffen.

“Clarke, you don’t have to answer that.” Lexa glared furiously at Jasper, looking ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.

Lex-” Clarke sighed.

“That’s an asshole question, Jasper.” The blonde felt Lexa clench her fist.

“It’s ok,” Clarke reassured her. She cleared her throat, staring at the onlookers.

“Lexa and I haven’t had sex, Jasper. Not that it's any of your concern.”

As soon as Clarke had finished speaking, the crowd burst into a symphony of oohs and awes, much to the chagrin of the embarrassed couple. Jasper’s eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead, his mouth dropping open.

“What? You can’t be serious!” he began. “With the way you two are all over each other?”

Lexa’s face was bright red. “Shut up, Jasper!”

Raven tossed a pillow at the scruffy boy, holding back her laughter. “Jasper, knock it off. Clarke's and Lexa’s sex life is none of your business.”

“Ok, ok!” He held up his hands in protest.

“Yeah,” Lexa nodded.

Clarke flexed her jaw, trying not to feel deeply uncomfortable in the aftermath of the conversation. She waited until the laughter had died down before turning to Bellamy. “Truth or dare?”

"Dare."

"I dare you to take out your teeth again."

* * *

  
  
“So,” Lexa cleared her throat, fidgeting anxiously in the passenger’s seat of Clarke’s Nissan.

“So,” Clarke stole a glance at Lexa and drummed her fingers nervously against the steering wheel.

“Should we talk about what Jasper said back there?” Lexa offered, her hands running through her hair.

“Yeah.” The car rolled to a stop at a traffic stop, the red lights casting an eerie glow against the night sky. “That cupcake tattoo is pretty disturbing.”

Lexa laughed, fiddled with the house keys in her pocket.

“I meant the thing about us,” Lexa paused. “And sex,” she added quickly, spitting the words out so fast that Clarke barely heard her.

“What?”

“Sex. Do we need to talk about it?”

“Maybe?” The light turned green, and Clarke pressed on her gas pedal a bit too forcefully, jerking her back in her seat.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Kind of,” Clarke shrugged, earning a weak smile from Lexa, who continued to play with the keys in her pocket. “I guess I was just hoping it would come up in a way that was more organic.”

“Yeah.”

“Look, Lexa,” the artist sighed, “I think that we should talk about it.” She turned onto their street, slowing as she eased the car into her driveway. “Let’s just…”

Clarke turned off the car, taking a deep breath before she looked over at her girlfriend. “Before we talk, do you mind if I take the night to think about what I want to say. Is that okay?”

Lexa smiled. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Perfect.” Clarke leaned over, pressing a delicate kiss to Lexa’s soft, full lips. “Sleep tight, babe. See you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Lexa nodded. “You too.”

Without looking back, Lexa made her way out of the car, desperately trying not to think about how good Clarke’s hips had felt pressed into hers, or why questions about their sex life were making her so anxious.

* * *

 

Days started early in the Woods’ household, where, at the General's insistence, the whole family observed a 5:00 A.M. wake-up. George's gruff, booming voice was Lexa's alarm clock, announcing Reveille each morning as he marched past her door, his heavy-footed strides carrying him down the hallway to the kitchen stairs.

“Bodies up! Beds made! Ten minutes!”

Lexa’s eyes snapped open the second the gravelly voice penetrated the quiet sanctity of her room. The abrupt wake-up call never failed to send her flying out of bed in a panic, and as Lexa bolted upright, she tripped, tangled in the mess of sheets that always seemed to wind themselves around her legs in the night.

Bewildered and off balance, the brunette stumbled, crashing into the floor ass over teakettle, her heart pounded as though the house was under attack. When she finally gathered her bearings, she sprang into action, flailing out of the offending bedding and struggling to her feet.

Lexa began flying through her morning ritual with the speed of a cruise missile. She made the bed perfectly, hospital corners folded at precise forty-five-degree angles, the sheets pulled tight enough to deflect quarters. With five minutes to spare, Lexa pulled on her warmups, tying back her hair as she dashed to the bathroom.

Face scrubbed, teeth brushed, and swim bag in tow, the hurried girl sprinted down the back stairs into the kitchen, coming to an abrupt stop when she spotted her father at the table, eyeing his watch, unimpressed.

"Ten minutes, fifty-six seconds." George gazed up at his daughter, his face a mix of grave seriousness and disappointment."

But," Lexa started.

"But nothing, Alexandra. Do you think I'm doing this for fun?"

She smirked, forcing herself not to roll her eyes. "Well, I'm sure not."

George frowned, his brow furrowing. "Sass me all you like, young lady. We'll see who's laughing come indoc week at the Academy."

Lexa sighed. "Papa, I haven't even gotten in yet."

The silver-haired ex-general nodded. He picked his newspaper off the table, simultaneously reaching for a still steaming cup of coffee next to him. "Don't worry about that. It's only February; schools are still making their decisions."

He held the paper upright, disappearing behind its pages, the steam that rose off his coffee the only trace of him. "For now, you just work on getting that morning routine down faster."  
When she was sure he wasn't looking, Lexa rolled her eyes, allowing herself a moment to stew over the inflexible and unrelenting regimen. The general had always run a tight ship when it came to morning routines, but the ten-minute deadline was a recent addition; an over-the-top implementation designed to prepare her for life at her father's alma mater.

Lexa crossed the kitchen silently, happy to let her stubborn father have the last word. She pulled a box of cereal from the cupboards, shaking a mound of frosted, shredded wheat into a bowl as she grabbed a hanging coffee mug of its hook.

Breakfast in hand, she took a seat across from George, the silence between them punctuated only by the sound of crunching cereal and carefully sipped coffee. The lull in conversation allowed Lexa's mind to wander, her thoughts wasting no time in turning to Clarke and the conversation they'd agreed to have. The athlete felt her stomach doing flips as she re-hashed the bullet points of everything she planned to say, all of them supported by carefully constructed arguments that she'd agonized over, long into the night.

Tossing and turning in bed the night before, Lexa had decided the best course of action was to be completely honest with Clarke. After all, at the rate they were moving, her ineptitude was bound to become evident sooner rather than later. She swallowed nervously, cursing herself for not having been forthright from the get-go.

Before Clarke, Lexa's romantic conquests had been limited to a few drunken encounters at parties and a brief soccer camp romance over her Sophomore summer. The small handful of make out sessions and romantic non-starters didn't amount to much in the way of expertise, and when it came to sex, Lexa was painfully aware of her lack of experience.

On the other hand, it had already come up in conversation that she was Clarke's first serious girlfriend. Given that fact, Lexa weighed the odds to be pretty good that Clarke was just as inexperienced. She only hoped that the beautiful, blonde artist was also similarly willing and curious.

The sound of George folding his paper interrupted Lexa's chain of thought. She glanced up, meeting her father's inquisitive gaze with tentative apprehension.

"Everything, ok?"

"You're awfully quiet this morning," George offered.

Lexa shrugged. "Sorry. I've got something on my mind."

George pursed his lips, setting his paper down on the table. "I don't suppose this thing has to do with, Clarke Griffin, does it?" He bowed his head, shooting her a knowing glance.

"Sort of," Lexa offered sheepishly. She stared back at George over the table, debating whether or not she should open up to him.

On the one hand, her father had always been a considerate and insightful sounding board for her concerns. On the other, when it came to matters of physical intimacy, their conversation tended to skate around the periphery of things, implying but never directly addressing the subject. None the less, her father managed to be a source of sage wisdom in times of personal crisis. Lexa steeled her resolve, determined to elicit her dad’s always practical advice, no matter how embarrassing it would be for the both of them.

"Papa, how long did you and mom wait before…” she paused. "What I mean is, how long were you dating before things got serious?"

George gave her a quizzical look, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Serious how?"

"Serious like," Lexa stirred her cereal with her spoon, desperate to avoid her father's gaze. “Thinking about getting closer."

George eyed her skeptically. “Closer to what?"

She groaned. “You know,” she gritted her teeth, forcing herself to finish the statement. “To being together.” She bit her lip, her embarrassment at an all-time high. “Physically.”

Lexa stared at her father, her skin flushing as she blushed a deep crimson. This display was nothing compared to George, whose eyes had grown enormous, his face white as a sheet.

“How...” Lexa’s blush grew deeper as she attempted to ask the question again. “How long did you and Mom date before you, um...” She swallowed hard, trying not to lose her never. “Before you took the next step?”

George looked as though someone had just held a gun to his head; eyes wide, pupils dilated and fixed, face stony. Lexa wasn’t sure how long they sat there in silence, but it felt like an eternity before he finally sputtered out a response.

“Well..” His voice cracked, and he coughed, clearing his throat dramatically. “Alexandra, I don’t think that that’s appropriate…”

The angry wail of a car horn blared outside, cutting the tension in the room with its insistent blasts. George’s head snapped in the direction of the noise, his face betraying great relief.

“Sounds like Lincoln’s here. Better not keep him waiting, or you’ll be late.”

Suddenly, George was on his feet, grabbing his paper and coffee as he headed towards the living room. Lexa grabbed her backpack and swim bag, throwing her her bowl into the sink as she darted after him.

“Wait, Dad…”

George strode briskly through the living room and foyer, veering past the front door as he took a sharp right, headed for his office.

“Honey, you’re going to be late.”

“But, you didn’t answer my question.”

The General stopped just shy of his office doors, his shoulders falling. He turned, the muscles of his jaw flexing as he stared frustratedly at his daughter. Finally, he sighed, resigned to the knowledge that she wouldn’t be satisfied without some semblance of an answer. George looked at his daughter sternly, his mustache twitching from side to side.

“Our wedding night; we waited until then.”

With that, he turned, disappeared through the sliding doors of his office before Lexa could protest. A moment later, the car horn blared again, giving Lexa no choice but to abandon the conversation altogether. She sprang out the front door and dashing down the porch steps. An annoyed Bellamy glared at her, his body draped over Lincoln’s as he leaned on the horn of his friend’s Black Jeep Wrangler.

“Took you long enough, Woods!”

Lexa rolled her eyes at the tall, curly-haired boy as he stepped down from the vehicle and folded the passenger seat forward for her, giving her room to climb in. She hoisted herself into the back, settling behind Lincoln who smiled at her apologetically.

“I’m sorry guys; I was trying to talk to my dad.”

“Ignore him, Lex. He’s been in a terrible mood all morning.”

Lexa frowned. “And why is that?”

“Because…”

“Because” Bellamy cut Lincoln off immediately. “We have a mandatory team meeting this morning. Coach Radley said that anyone who comes late gets benched Saturday. If I get benched, I miss State. If I miss State, then the coach from Michigan doesn’t see me race. If the coach from Michigan doesn’t see me race, then I don’t get a scholarship. If I don’t get a scholarship, then I end up working for my Uncle’s plumbing business to save money for school.” He paused and shot them a dirty look. “And if I get stuck working a plumbing with Uncle Joe, then I’m making it my mission to ensure that you’re both stuck there with me.”

Lincoln stared at his friend skeptically, his brow furrowed. “Bellamy, Coach Radley isn’t going to bench one of his best swimmers going into the tournament. He just said that to scare the Freshmen. Besides, we’re still thirty minutes ahead of schedule. You're being ridiculous.”

Bellamy tapped his watch anxiously. “I’m not taking any chances. Now, can you please start driving? I don’t want us to get stuck in morning traffic.”

Lincoln rolled his eyes and shifted the Wrangler into gear, backing out of the driveway and onto the street. Silence settled over the passengers as the Jeep rolled down the picturesque suburban streets, the picket fences and neatly manicured lawns occluded by the early morning fog. In the back seat, Lexa’s mind began to wander to her planned summit with Clarke, and the long list of well-rationalized points she’d spent hours crafting. She’d felt so confident about her position the night before, but the more she thought about things, the lest justified her arguments seemed to her. Disheartened, she shifted uncomfortably, eyeing the two boys in the front of the vehicle and wondering if the good-natured ribbing her friends’ were sure to give her was worth crowdsourcing her concerns in pursuit of advice.

“Guys?”

“Hmm?” Bellamy grunted from the front, peering over his shoulder at the disheveled mop of loose curls in his peripherals.

“Do you guys think that four months into a relationship is too soon to sleep with someone?”

Lincoln rolled to a stop at the next set of lights and peered into his rear view mirror, catching Lexa’s reflection. “Is this about last night, Lex?”

She avoided her fiend’s gave, nervously chewing her bottom lip. “Yeah, I guess.”

Lincoln waited for Lexa to offer a more detailed explanation. When she issued none, he decided a bit of gentle encouragement was merited. “You don’t have to be embarrassed you know. There’s nothing wrong with taking things slow.”

“Nothing wrong except the blue balls Woods is probably sporting,” Bellamy chimed in, smirking devilishly as he nudged Lincoln to let him know the light had changed.

“You’re not helping, Bro.” Lincoln furrowed his brow at the smug looking boy in his passenger's seat as the Jeep began to move again.

Bellamy smirked all the wider, wiggling his eyebrows at Lexa as he turned to face her. “What’s the big deal anyway, Woods? I mean, it’s not like you have to worry about getting Clarke pregnant. Besides, it’s not like you’ve never had sex before.”

In the back seat, Lexa screwed her eyes shut tight, fighting to get out the words that were dancing treacherously on the tip of her tongue.

“The thing is, that’s not exactly the case.”

Bellamy looked at her skeptically. “How’s that? I mean unless you know something about Biology that I don’t.”

“No, the other thing.” Lexa bounced her knee nervously, waiting for the boys to catch on.

The Jeep screeched in protest as a startled Lincoln hit the brakes a bit too forcefully, grinding them to a stop at an approaching red light.

“Whoa!” Bellamy lurched forward, catching himself on the front console. “Jesus, watch it, man!”

Shaking off the shock of Lexa’s statement, Lincoln frowned in Bellamy’s general direction before turning his attention toward the shy girl crouched in the back, as anxious for advice as she was embarrassed to be asking for it.

“Wait, are you saying this would be your first…”

“My first time, yeah.” Lexa stared at her feet, unable to make eye contact. She felt her face flush, sure that she was glowing bright red.

Lincoln stared at her, his face still a mix of shock and disbelief. “But… What about last year at Nat Turner’s New Year’s thing? You and Lauren Cho disappeared upstairs for like two hours. I thought…”

“No,” Lexa sighed. “We just made out for a long time. It was headed in that direction, but she was drunk, and I didn’t feel right about it.”

“Ashley Rodrigues at Ben Dillon’s kegger?”

“Nope.”

“What about that girl at your soccer camp?”

“We were so busy with training that we never had time. The furthest we ever got was third base.”

“I mean, isn’t that pretty much sex for lesbians?” Bellamy finally chimed. “What do you consider sex between two girls anyway? I mean, is it hand stuff, or mouth stuff, or just all of your clothes being off?”

“Dude!” Lincoln elbowed Bellamy in the side just hard enough to get his point across. “Not ok.”

“I hate that question,” Lexa groaned, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, “but to be honest, I’m not sure I know the answer either.”

Lincoln peered back at his frustrated friend, staring at her her sullen fade in his rearview. “Lexa, I think it’s more about intimacy than anything. Do you feel like you’ve been as intimate as you can be with a girl?”

She shook her head.

“Well, then you haven’t had sex yet.”

Lexa sighed, running her hand through her hair nervously as she waited to for her always thoughtful friend to offer more advice.

“Your first time should be with someone you care about and trust, the time frame on that is whatever you feel comfortable with, honestly. Just use your best judgment.”

She nodded, mulling over his words. “Is it ok if I ask how long you and Octavia waited?”

“Whoa! Ok, this I don’t need to hear.” Bellamy frowned, covering his ears in disgust.

Lincoln shook his head at the freckled faced body in his passenger's seat, perplexed as to how one person could be so characteristically old souled one moment and so single-mindedly juvenile the next.

“Ignore him,” Lincoln slowed the car as they approached the line of other vehicles waiting to pull into the school parking lot. “Bellamy prefers to think of Octavia as a sweet, virginal angel.”

Bellamy cup his hands over his ears a bit tighter, scowling at the tan boy next to him. “I hate you two right now.”

Lincoln rolled his eyes. “To answer your question, Lexa, we waited about a year.”

Considering how open Octavia was about their sex life, the news surprised Lexa. “Wow, so you guys only just…”

“Yeah,” Lincoln cut her off before the conclusion of her sentence made Bellamy’s head explode. “Just before school ended last year..”

“Why did you wait so long?”

Lincoln drummed his fingers on the wheel, staring down the long line of cars ahead of him. “Octavia was my first serious girlfriend and a year younger than me, so I didn’t want to rush things, or to rush her.”

“And she felt the same way?”

Lincoln chuckled, staring at Bellamy, who looked fit to be tied. “If anything she wanted us to move faster.”

Bellamy’s hands finally dropped. He grimaced, staring daggers at his friend. “Dude, please don’t make me punch you.”

Lincoln held up his hands defensively. “Ok! I’ll drop it. Jesus man, I was just trying to help out Lexa.” He gripped the wheel tighter in annoyance. “Why don’t you give her your two cents, Casanova, since you’re such an expert on the subject.”

For a few moments Bellamy was silent, then he spoke, his voice an exasperated monotone. “I don’t think it should be a big deal.”

“Sex isn’t a big deal?” Lincoln’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah,” Bellamy nodded, staring out at the chaos of the busy parking lot. “Everyone makes such a big deal out of it, and they end up turning it into something it’s not,” he continued, his voice finally softening.

“Listen, all that stuff about waiting till you find the right person and making your first time special… All that does is put way too much pressure on something that’s bound to be awkward and embarrassing the first time around.” He spun his torso around, staring at Lexa seriously.

“Do you trust Clarke?”

“Of course.”

“And does she trusts you? I mean I certainly hope she does after those grand gestures you made for her.”

“I mean, I think so.”

“And do you want to have sex with her?”

Lexa shrugged. “I mean, yeah. Obviously.”

Bellamy nodded, turning back to the scene unfolding in front of the school. “Then tell her that. If she isn’t ready then fine, but you shouldn’t be ashamed of wanting to, and you shouldn’t have to pretend that you don’t.”

Lexa mulled the information over, looking at Lincoln for confirmation on whether or not she had just been given the worst advice ever issued. Surprisingly, Lincoln gave no sign that he disagreed. “Honestly, it’s not terrible advice,” he shrugged, easing on the gas as a crossing guard waved them into the student lot.

* * *

 

Blue eyes stared fruitlessly at the wall mounted clock in the AP Biology lab as it’s big hand ticked, agonizingly slowly, towards a quarter past eleven. I would have been an understatement to say that Clarke been distracted during her morning classes. Behind eyes that had remained fixed on chalkboard after chalkboard, Clarke had been utterly checked out, an empty vessel of a girl where a diligent student normally resided. Her hands moved, her binders filled up with pre-calculus equations, the conjugation of foreign verbs, and laboratory procedural notes, but her mind wandered. For the better part of three and a half hours, she was focused solely on the conversation that each passing minute was bringing her closer to. Clarke had been sure she had pinned down exactly how she wanted that conversation to go, but now that she was moments from having it, her confidence was beginning to falter. The idea of being open with Lexa had seemed so simple to her the night before, as she lay in bed. Now though, the idea of total honesty and the reaction it could garner was more daunting. She stared at the clock, watching the red dial spin around one final time before the bell rang and students began filling out of the classroom much to the chagrin of Mr. Carpenter, their AP Biology teacher.

“Students, don’t forget to clean your lab equipment thoroughly and store it before you leave!”

Clarke shook out the test tube she’d been washing and place it on a rack to dry, shoving the remaining equipment into a drawer haphazardly before she snatched her book bag off the floor and booked it for the cafeteria. Down one hallway and left into another, she weaved through the throng of teenage bodies, stopping every so often to issue quick hello’s to the various friend she passed. The blonde turned another corner, squeezing through the sea of people until she caught sight of the cafeteria doors. Clarke began scanning the crowd for chestnut hair and green eyes, but her efforts were cut short as she felt herself being pulled off down a side hallway and into a darkened office.

The door to the AV room shut behind her abruptly, and before she had time to process much else, warm hands were cupping her face, and soft full lips were pressed against her own. When she pulled away a second later, Lexa’s Green eyes were staring down at her, full of playfulness and exasperation.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that all morning.”

Clarke nudged her playfully, resting her back against the door as her girlfriend leaned in, her hands dropping to the blonde’s hips. “Jesus Lexa, you scared me.”

Lexa bit her lip, smiling apologetically. “I’m sorry, I just really needed to get you to myself for a minute.” she leaned in further, resting her forehead against Clarke’s. “So…”

“So,” Clarke sighed, bringing her hand to her girlfriend's face and brushing her thumb lightly over her flushed cheek.

Lexa opened her mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it a second later, snapping it shut again. The silence hung awkwardly between them until Lexa finally let out a tiny groan. “Ugh. Why is this so hard to talk about?”

Clarke chuckled at the flustered girl hovering over her. “Because it’s sex.”

Lexa sighed in frustration. “I wish Raven hadn’t brought it up last night.”

Clarke nodded in agreement, gently tucking a loose curl behind Lexa’s ear. “Me too, but then again, we were going to have to talk about this sooner or later.”

“We were?”

Clarke tiled her skeptically. “Of course.” She searched Lexa’s face for signs of disagreement but found only curiosity. “I mean it’s not like I haven’t thought about it. Haven’t you?”

Lexa immediately felt herself blush. “Umm. I mean…” Lexa’s eyes screwed shut in embarrassment, trying to think of what she could say that didn’t make her sound like the horny teenager that, frankly, she was.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Blushing all the more furiously, Lexa steeled her nerve, resolved to be honest with Clarke even if she died of embarrassment in the process. “Ok, to be frank, it’s been on my mind a lot lately.”

Clarke nodded, waiting for her girlfriend to continue.

“I want to be honest with you. Part of me worries that five months together isn’t long enough to be thinking about this, but another part of me isn’t that concerned about it.”

Lexa paused, clenching her jaw as she willed herself to force out the next few words. “Clarke, I want you. I want to be with you in all that ways I can be. If you aren’t there yet, then that is ok. I can wait, but I just want you to know that, whenever you’re ready, so am I.

“I’m ready.”

Lexa froze, sure she hadn’t heard correctly. “What?”

“Lexa, I want you too. I just wanted to make sure we talked about it before it ended up happening in the spur of the moment.”

“You’re ready?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

Clarke stifled her laughter as she cupped Lexa’s shocked face in her hands, placing a delicate kiss on the girl’s soft pink lips. “Yeah, Babe. I’m sure.”

Lexa nodded dumbfounded. “So, should we…” She cleared her throat nervously. “When should I…”Clarke kissed her again, effectively ending her rambling. “How about we just let it happen when it feels right?”

Lexa let out a relieved breath, shaking her head, and smiling at her nervousness. She leaned in, capturing her girlfriend lips in a tender kiss. “You’re kind of amazing. Did you know that?”

Clark smirked. “I may have been told that once or twice.” With that, she pushed herself off the door. “Now, come on you. We only have fifteen minutes to eat.”

She handed Lexa her long discarded book bag and opened the door, holding it and motioning for Lexa to exit first. “After you, gorgeous.”

Lexa rolled her eyes, still grinning from ear to ear as she made her way back into the hall, hesitating just before she exited the tiny AV office to kiss her girlfriend on the cheek one last time, and add a final thought.

“You know, I’m glad that we get to be each other’s first.”

And with that, Clarke’s heart dropped into her stomach.

* * *

 

Lexa groaned, pushing her textbook away from her. Three hours into studying and the desk in her room was littered with too many notes to keep organized anymore. What was worse she could barely keep her mind focused on the task at hand, and who could blame her? AP Physics wasn’t nearly as engaging a subject as the girl whose bedroom window faced her own. More importantly, how was she supposed to concentrate on Coulomb’s law when, just a few hours ago, the girl next door had told her that she wanted her, in that way. Thoughts of soft skin, full breasts, and blonde hair that smelled like honeysuckle had been drifting in and out of Lexa’s head ever since the conversation in the AV closet, and try as she might to keep those thoughts respectable, they kept turning on her.

To make matters worse, Clarke Griffin wasn’t her only distraction. There was also the nagging issue of the item stashed in her desk drawer. She ran her fingers delicately over the handle, staring at it as though it contained an incendiary device that would go off if she opened it. The more Lexa focused on the drawer, the more she felt compelled to open it if only to make sure that what was hidden inside was safe from prying eyes. She pulled it towards herself carefully, sliding a few items out of the way and reaching into the back, where a white envelope sat, tucked out of sight. She picked it up, weighing the envelope thoughtfully, studying the logo in the upper left corner and the postage stamp that boldly proclaimed “Greetings from California.” Unable to help herself, Lexa turned it over, tenderly sliding a crisply folded piece of paper out from inside. She unfolded it cautiously as though she was defusing a bomb, reading it for perhaps the hundredth time.

_Dear Miss Woods,_

_I am so excited to hear that you decided to apply to Stanford University. Having spoken to your coach multiple times over the course of this season, I would like to reiterate just once more what a good fit I think our program would be for you. I understand that you’ve expressed concerns about your ability to play at an elite college level, but let me assure you that, after the performance I witness you deliver at your regional championship, I have no similar reservations. I believe you to be an enormously talented athlete who is dedicated, hard-working, and quite frankly, fun to watch._

_I spoke with Coach McKay again recently, and she informed me that there is some family pressure to make an early commitment to the Air Force Academy. While I believe USAFA to be an outstanding institution, I would venture to say that Stanford University can afford you as many, if not more opportunities to excel. We offer one of the nations most rigorous academic environments, as well as top-notch ROTC programs. Should you choose to commit to Stanford I, as your coach, will make every effort to ensure that you can balance your athletic obligations with the opportunity to participate, as fully as possible, in cadet life._

_I also understand that you are an excellent student, interested in a possible future as an engineering. Stanford University is home to one of the nation’s best engineering programs, and we place great stock in the academic success of our student-athletes. As head coach of the team with the highest combined GPA in the athletic department, I can attest to this matter personally. I have already spoken to our admissions board, and while we are a competitive institution with a large application pool, they have assured me that you are an excellent candidate for matriculation. I am very confident in your ability to not only gain admission to Stanford University but to become a future leader in our program and an impact performer on our team._

_My assistant coach, Trisha Davis, will be communicating with you regularly to share information about Stanford, but I would enjoy the opportunity to get to know you a little better personally. Please, feel free to call me with any questions you might have, or to schedule a campus visit. I can be reached at 650-857-0555. I look forward to hearing from you soon._

_Best Wishes,_  
_Juliana Aozasa_  
_Head Coach_

Lexa sighed, staring down at the letter and running her left thumb over the large, red S that adorned the page just above the signature at the bottom of the stationary. The guilt bubbled up in her chest, agitating her unease as she remembered the call she’d received from Stanford’s coach in November, the nights she’d spent filling out the school’s application in secret. From start to finish, the whole process had been an exercise in lying by omission, and to Lexa’s guilty conscience there was little difference between that and the real thing.

Lexa stuffed the paper back in the envelope hurriedly, tucking it out of sight as she heard the door to her room creak open.

“Hey, kiddo.”

A sheepish looking George shuffled into the room, avoiding Lexa’s gaze as though the embarrassment of that morning’s conversation was still fresh on his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, crossing over to a shelf where a lifetime’s worth of old soccer and swimming trophies sat, arranged with careful deliberation. He picked one up absentmindedly, examining the gold figurine at the top, suspected in time, mid kick.

“Lexa Woods, MVP, 2009 Chevy Chase U12 Girl’s Travel Soccer.” He read the words carefully, studying them with a twinkle in his eye. “ I was so proud of you that day. Youngest kid on the team by a year and you took home most valuable player honors.”

Lexa sighed, a little embarrassed at her father’s reverence. “Pop, all I did was win a trophy.”

George shook his head. “Received, Alexandra. You receive things you work hard for; you never win them.”

He placed the trophy back on the shelf. “Listen, Lexa. You’ve always been a hardworking, driven kid. I’ve never had to tell you to do something twice or force you to show initiative. You’ve always done those things all on your own, but lately…” For a moment her father stared at the floor, seeming to have lost his nerve. Finally, he cleared his throat and continued. “Lately, you’ve just seemed distracted.”

George finally looked up at her. He smiled and took a seat on the corner of her bed. “I know that I push you hard, but I do it because I know that I raised a woman who doesn’t crumble under pressure.

He placed a hand on top of her's and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “About what we were talking about this morning…”

Lexa’s face flushed immediately, sure that her father was about to give her the talk. She straightened quickly, trying as best she could to navigate a way out of the conversation. “Dad… I mean… You don’t have to…”

He held up a hand reassuringly. “Lexa, all I was going to say is that I know how exciting it can be to be caught up in a new relationship, but I don’t want you letting that distract you from the things you’ve worked so hard to accomplish. Right now you should just be worried about keeping your grades up so that when you get your acceptance letter from the academy, you’ll be in good standing.”

He smiled, squeezing her hand once more. Lexa felt a pang of conscience as she thought about the letter she had just stuffed back in its hiding place. She shifted uncomfortably, her palms sweating as she considered telling her father that the school they had been talking about and making plans for since she was old enough to fit into a Future Cadet t-shirt was no longer her first choice. Decided that the timing wasn't right, Lexa swallowed her guilt, forcing herself to smile back at her father.

“Papa, I haven’t even gotten in yet.”

“Don’t you worry about that, kiddo.” He winked at her. “I have a feeling you’ll be hearing back about your application sooner rather than later.”

With that he stood, straightening the wrinkles in his perfectly pressed slacks as he rose.

“Anyway, your mother and I are going to be gone this weekend. We’re heading down to Georgia early Friday to attend one of my oldest friend’s retirement ceremony, and we’re staying there through Monday so your mother can relax and I can get in a few rounds of golf.”

Lexa nodded. “Does that mean you're going to miss the state tournament?”

George nodded apologetically. “Yes, but I’ve asked coach Radley to tape your races for me.”

He put a hand on his daughter’s back, his gaze warm but serious.

“Now listen. I know I’ve been pushing you pretty hard recently, so if you need a break, I want you to take this weekend to recharge the old batteries. Go out, have fun, you can even have a few friends over so long as all of your work is done beforehand, and you clean up after everyone.”

Lexa nodded, trying not to give away her excitement at the thought of having the house to herself for a whole weekend. “Yes, sir.”

“And, Lexa…”

“Yes?”

George looked at her sternly, crossing his arms over his chest for effect. “No overnight guests. I’m trusting you here, kiddo. Can I do that?”

Lexa’s conscience kicked into overdrive. She felt guilt spilling from every pore in her body as she disingenuously swore to uphold the honor system her father had set. “Of course, Papa.”

George nodded, seemingly content at his daughter's word. “Good. Well then, I’m going to leave you too it. Study hard, sweetheart. Goodnight.”

With that he was gone, leaving Lexa to stew in a mix of guilt and delight. Torn as she was about the impulse to betray her father’s trust, she couldn’t help feeling elated at the opportunity that lay before her. Her knee shook up and down as she nervously reached for her phone and dialed one of the few numbers she knew by heart. The phone rang twice before the warm, amber tones of Clarke’s voice echoed from the other end.

“Hey, Babe. Need a study break?”

Lexa laughed. “More than you know, but that’s not what I’m calling about.”

Lexa peered through her bedroom window, waiting for her girlfriend to appear across the way. A moment later a curtain was drawn back, revealing Clarke wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants and an old white tank top that flattered her form a bit too well. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun atop her head, a few strands falling in a perfect frame around her face.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

“What’s up?”

“You’re killing me with that tank top; you know that right?”

Clark shook head, smiling mischievously. “How do you know that wasn’t my plan all along.”

“To seduce me with casual sleepwear and a tastefully disheveled top knot?”

Clark stuck her tongue out playfully. “So, what’s going on?”

Lexa inhaled sharply, determined to make herself sound as confident as possible.

“Remember what we decided when we talked at lunch?”

Clarke nodded. “Of course I do.”

“Well…” Lexa paused to steel her nerve. “How would you like to spend the night Friday?”

  
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